


Look Alive

by MissShellfishBeach



Category: Amazingphil - Fandom, Dan Howell - Fandom, Danisnotonfire - Fandom, Phandom, dan and phil
Genre: Criminal!Phil, F/M, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-05 23:31:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15873939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissShellfishBeach/pseuds/MissShellfishBeach
Summary: He knew the Lester family was a dangerous family to be born into, but he never imagined things would turn out the way they did.//It's been three years since the love of Dan's life has disappeared, her entire existence wiped off the face of the Earth. There was a crime scene, but there was no body. And all this time, he's accepted that there was no getting her back. But then she shows up after all this time, alive and well...well, save for her memory of him of course. But maybe this was his chance to start over with her, to do things right this time. What could possibly go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

_"Dan please! I need your help! No one else will listen, please!"_

The memory of her shrill voice grated against the inside of Dan's skull, making his head ache.

_"Whoawhoawhoa, what's going on? Why are you crying? What's happened?"_

_"It's my wife! She's gone, she's in danger! But no one will believe me--no one will listen!"_

She was in hysterics, her tone was unsteady and he remembered having to shake her by the shoulders with all his might in order to get her to calm down. But even then, it still didn't help her violently trembling hands, her ever-quaking voice. She'd been past the point of no return and Dan remembered being tempted to slap her if nothing else worked. But not wanting to make things worse and terrified at the idea of her going out on her own in that condition, he'd simply conceded to her panic-stricken request. He let her snatch his wrist in her iron grip and lead him away. Through her fat, crocodile tears and airy vocals, Dan could just barely manage to hear what was wrong.

Her wife. Her wife had gone missing. Naomi Dawson, the woman who had wed the love of his life. Dan remembered, for once, pushing all his feelings of bitterness and resentment toward Naomi aside because in that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that she was inconsolable, and the only way to bring her back down to Earth was to find the love of _her_ life.

He remembered running all over the city with her, checking every jail or hospital they could find. But to no avail. It was like Naomi had just slipped into another dimension. She hadn't answered Lola's phone calls, the police had no luck finding her and Phil had downplayed the issue into irrelevancy, much to his little sister's dismay. Well, dismay wasn't even the right word to describe how she was that day.

_Angry, furious, terrified..._

Maybe. But even those words didn't seem to do it justice. But somehow, he knew exactly how she felt that night because it was exactly how he'd feel if Lola had suddenly disappeared, too. No, it _was_ how he felt when she disappeared.

Just like clockwork, after Naomi's corpse was unveiled, Lola herself slipped into a state of total insanity. And Dan watched, paralyzed with terror, as she completely lost her mind. He watched as any remnants of reason or logic faded into utter madness within her. He remembered looking into her onyx colored eyes and no longer seeing the soft-spoken, kind-hearted girl he'd known for practically his whole life. No. In her place was a crazed, desperate, horrified widow who had finally shattered and tumbled head first off her rocker. Seeing her psyche crumble right before him was a thousand times worse than seeing her fall in love with and marry someone else. And the worst part was that he'd suspected this psychological downfall had been a long time coming. And now, almost three years later, Dan feared he would meet the same fate.

Throughout the years, he couldn't help but feel disheartened at the fact that everyone seemed to move on just fine without her. After her funeral, it was like she'd never existed to them, even Phil. And he was her _brother_. He should have been the most devastated of them all. But he was all too eager to continue on without a care. Dan couldn't help but sneer every time he brought her name up and Phil would just change the subject. He couldn't begin to fathom how he didn't want to hunt down and tear out the throat of whoever was responsible for her demise.

 _"There's no one to hunt down,"_ Phil had always said. _"You saw for yourself just how crazy she went when Naomi was found."_

Dumbfounded, Dan replied, _"You're not...You're not suggesting she killed herself."_

Phil had gazed up at him with those icy blues as if it had been obvious this entire time.

_"It's not really a suggestion if we all already know it."_

_"No,"_ He'd stood abruptly from his seat, knuckles clenched. He'd realized then that he'd been ready to sucker punch his best friend right in the face. It would have startled him seeing as he'd never laid a violent hand on anyone before, despite being freakishly tall and quite strong, even though he wasn't particularly muscular by any means.

Phil had realized it, too, and was ready to defend himself if need be.

 _"No."_ He'd reaffirmed. _"She did not kill herself. They never found her body, for all we know, she could even be alive still."_

 _"Don't be stupid, Dan!"_ Phil spat. _"She's dead! She's not coming back and you need to accept that! Okay!? Just...let it go. Let her rest in peace."_

But he couldn't. This conversation had taken place over a year ago and he hadn't even begun to move on. He could distract himself all he wanted; spend his days editing videos, responding to emails, being productive in general. But as soon as his head met his pillow, the name Lola swam around his head, taunting him. His chest ached at the injustice and at the thought that he couldn't do anything to save her. Phil was always saying how she'd been long gone anyway, even before she disappeared. But he couldn't help but wonder if he could have done more. If they all could have done more.

He wept helplessly, knowing he'd never receive an answer. He'd live out the rest of his life, dwelling, wondering. He knew the Lester family was a dangerous family to be born into, but he never imagined things would turn out the way they did.


	2. Chapter 2

Daniel Howell awoke with crusted over eyes and empty Maltesers bags crumpled haphazardly over his keyboard. Billie Eilish's _Bellyache_ was still playing on loop when he realized with a groan that he'd passed out in front of his desk, hunched over quite uncomfortably. His spine was rigid, muscles aching,and he wanted nothing more than to just face plant his bed, his _oh so_ comfortable bed. But alas, nature had been calling and it felt like it'd been calling for a while now.

With an annoyed grunt, Dan rose from his chair and stumbled half-blindly to the bathroom. He took a long moment to wake up as he relieved himself, and when he walked back out, the distinct scent of fresh coffee entered his nostrils and he nearly let his eyes roll into the back of his head as he moaned dramatically. When he made it to the kitchen, Phil was already there, watching him with quizzical brows. Oh shit, he'd forgotten that everyone could hear everything in this tiny ass flat. But he merely shrugged and ran a hand through his greasy hobbit-hair.

"Well good morning to you," Phil muttered into his mug.

Dan offered no reply as he poured himself a mug of his own, nearly burning himself in the process. He heard Phil mumble a 'be careful' under his breath, but his words fell onto deaf ears. He could have burned off his entire hand for how much he cared.

Turning back around to head towards his room, he noticed through his tired, hazy vision that his flatmate was dressed rather nicely. Instead of his usual jeans and a t-shirt, it was a recently ironed blue button-down and black trousers. His raven hair was combed off to the side, chin free of stubble. He looked like a regular 33 year old on his way to a blue-collar  job rather than a nerdy one who'd been making YouTube videos since his university days.

Dan frowned at this but didn't comment on it. It'd be no use anyway. And besides, at the end of the day, he knew Phil didn't have much of a choice. He knew from secondhand experience and from what little he knew about his father that being the boss was less of a privilege and more of a back breaking burden. One he wished his friend didn't have to suffer, but Phil had expressed time and time again that he didn't want Dan getting involved. Ever.

So he never got involved.

"Heading out already?" He rasped.

"Already? Dan, it's almost three in the afternoon." He spoke deeply and smoothly. Dan almost dropped his coffee in alarm.

"It is!?"

Phil fished his phone from his pocket and showed him the time as proof.

He reeled back like he'd just been struck.

"Oh fuck," He hissed, although he had no real reason to be vexed. His job was to sit on his ass and talk to a camera all day, that certainly didn't require having to get up at six every morning. But even so, guilt nipped at his insides.

Phil scoffed.

"Why are you just making coffee now if it's already this late in the day?"

"Because I knew you would anyway, and besides, you can never have too much."

"The fact that you're constantly up 'til two in the morning makes me beg to differ."

"At least I still get up at a decent hour."

"I-" Dan stopped, having no witty comeback ready. Phil harumphed in a smug fashion. "Whatever. _Prick_."

"Heeey!" The dark haired boy whined much like a child in spite of his formal attire. "You stupid-... _butt!_ "

Dan burst into airy chuckles and briefly looked away.

"Really?" He said through incredulous laughter. Though he spoke like he thought it was dumb, in truth he cherished these small, simple moments more than anything these days. And through it all, he had a feeling that Phil knew this just as well. It was probably why he hadn't regressed fully into an uptight, all work and no play type of boss. He was still socially awkward and clumsy as hell, still didn't know a thing about talking to women, and he still remained his eccentric, quirky self in all the videos he still made. He still kept his channel mostly PG,even though he would often spew things that would make a sailor blush. Whether it was all a facade or not, it still felt like Dan still had his best friend when no one else was there.

"Shut up!" Phil laughed, and for a few tranquil moments, all that could be heard was their dissolving laughter. For just a few seconds, Phil was just a newbie university graduate and Dan was still a nobody, making videos with his laptop's shitty webcam. He couldn't have been happier.

Things were so simple back then, so innocent. Before Jack, Phil's and Lola's father, had been beaten into a coma. Back when Lola was still in the picture.

_Lola..._

His heart shriveled. painfully at the thought.

No. He couldn't think about it for too long. It hurt way too much. He couldn't do it.

So he didn't. He abided by Phil's requests and tried to lay her memory to rest.

"Well...I have to head out, now." Phil solemnly broke the silence.

"When do you think you'll be back?" Dan asked with hopeful eyes. Phil shrugged.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. It depends on how well this meeting goes I suppose."

A dagger was embedded into Dan's shriveled heart and his pale face fell, his hands nearly losing their grip on his mug.

_The meeting._

On instinct, Dan slammed his mug down on the counter and desperately grabbed onto Phil's arm like his life depended on it.

"You don't mean-...!" He intentionally cut himself off and stared at him expectantly, hoping, praying that he didn't mean what he thought he did. But when Dan's gaze was only met with another sympathetic one, he knew then that this was the meeting he'd been dreading on Phil's behalf. In that moment, Dan wanted to slump down at his friend's feet and hug his calves and use his weight to force him to stay, because his stomach felt hollow at the thought of Phil going anywhere near _her_. Whoever she was.

She was psychotic, she was unpredictable, there was no telling what her next move would be. One minute, everything is okay, and the next, one of her pawns is holding a gun to your head. Say one wrong thing, and your head would be on on a stick, quite literally, much to everyone's horror. Why Phil would ever agree to what he did, he would never understand. And he wished more than anything that he could convince him to stay. But he didn't seem to give a damn about his well being, which was both admirable and infuriating all at once. He was just like his father.

"I'm sorry, Dan. I'm not thrilled about it either." Phil said it as if he were talking about having to sit and talk with a weird, distant cousin who liked eating their boogers for fun. Not like he was about to attempt negotiation with one of the most dangerous people in the entire fucking country.

His eyes started to water at the thought.

"I'll say," He disguised his near-sob as a scoff. "I can't believe you even agreed to it in the first place."

"I didn't have much of a choice."

"You always have a choice."

"No, Dan. I don't. Not if I want everyone to sleep soundly and safely tonight."

"Phil..."

Phil sighed and pulled Dan in for a tight hug, something he didn't do often as affection in general between the two was already scarce. Courtesy of Dan's borderline phobia of human contact. But this was something they both needed, and it almost chases off the dread threatening to make Dan its bitch.

"I'm going to be okay. Okay?"

Dan was silent for several seconds, staring down at his bare feet. Tears were welling behind his eyes and he used every once of energy he had to fend them off. Phil's grip tightened on him, desperate for a response. Dan wrapped his arms around Phil's neck and trembled delicately against his shoulder. Phil's fingers pressed into the skin of Dan's back firmly, a silent promise that, indeed, things would be all alright.

"Okay?" He asked again. Dan sighed deeply.

"Okay."

But he didn't believe himself when he said this. And somehow, he had the nagging feeling that his best friend didn't believe himself completely either. But when they finally pulled away from each other, Phil roughly patted his shoulder and sniffed away any oncoming tears.

"Why don't we rent a film tonight, huh?"

The brunet boy nodded.

With one final reassuring smile, Phil had grabbed his things and walked out the door, leaving Dan by himself. He'd stood there in the middle of the kitchen, not moving a muscle, for a  very drawn out minute. But soon, the dam inside of him burst and suddenly he was bawling like a child. Hot tears were streaming down his cheeks within seconds and he collapsed in on himself, hugging himself tightly and sinking to the ground.

Maybe he was overreacting to this meeting. After, it was just a meeting. But it was with the most dangerous woman in England, and perhaps the most dangerous woman in the United Kingdom. And her empire had been aiming to destroy the Lester-Kirijo family for decades.

Phil's father had been the first one to fall victim to their crimes when competition grew exponentially. Competition over customers, territory, power. But when he was found nearly dead in his hotel room and would spend the next several years in a comatose state and Lola being in no position to take on the role of a mob boss what with her being so innocent, so pure, Phil was the only one who was fit to take charge and try and keep everyone safe.

Sure, what Jack did was profitable, and because of what he had built, both his wife, his children, and certainly his future grandchildren as well would never have to worry about going hungry or finding shelter. Paying university tuition would never be a problem, they would grow up with the finest of clothes and accessories.

Indeed, they were a very well-off family because of the empire Phil's father had built. But it came at a price. And that price was in the form of a rival gang who'd quickly grown angry that their own clientele had begun to deplete. And for the last few years, they had only become stronger. So much stronger than the Lester's could ever hope to be. But perhaps the scariest part about them was their ruthless leader. Their mistress. Their _queen_.

Nobody knew her name, nobody knew her face. She could have been anyone. She could be the neighbor next door, she could be the waitress at Dan's favorite pub, she could even be that homeless squatter often seen begging for change on the side of the road. Unlikely, but still petrifying all the same.

This was precisely why she always had her pawns go out and act as extensions of herself, to stand in her place during meetings such as the one today, to carry out any and all of her orders.

Employees practically shit themselves whenever anyone suggested disobeying her. Not even Phil knew how she was able to make grown men weep and be reduced to juveniles once again. But he couldn't deny that she could crush him and everything he knew with the flick of a wrist if he wasn't careful. 

And it wasn't just in the world of criminals and mobsters that people were afraid of her. Any mention of her sent chills down the spines of even the regular common folks. No one was entirely safe. But Phil was perhaps the one who should have been the most afraid, because he was the boss now of Jack's empire. And this meeting today would determine if the Lesters and _The Yokai_ would finally unify as one, ending all the animosity that had been building up over the years and all the crimes that have been, and potentially would be committed in an attempt to bring one another down.

Or if the downfall of everything Jack Lester had built was inevitable all along.

Dan had no way of telling what would happen, no one did. And he could do nothing to help things. All he could do was sit here and pray despite having no faith that Phil got out alive.


	3. Chapter 3

Phil Lester shuddered as he approached the boisterous nightclub, already he could hear the sounds of loud big-band tunes and joyous laughter. It had taken a while for him to get to this part of the city, during which he accidentally spilled coffee on some more man's nice, wool coat and nearly face planted the sidewalk at least twice. Part of that was because he was already as ungainly as they come, but it was also to due the unadulterated nervousness eating away at his gut.

He had played it off somewhat in front of Dan, not wanting him to worry too much. But inside, he felt like he was about to cave in on himself. His knees were weak and trembling as he waltzed up to the large building, _Cloud Nine Club_ displayed in bold cursive lettering above him. Warm colored lights peeked through the entrance whenever someone entered or exited, and he dreaded walking in there and doing his best to avoid looking at any of the female employees, dressed skimpily and swaying their bodies in ways that were meant to entice their male customers. Places like this made him uncomfortable, but he couldn't make this obvious for fear of insulting _The Yokai_ , as this place was one of their proudest investments.

He gazed down at himself, stomach dropping. Maybe he'd under dressed for the occasion, as he didn't look like a high end mob boss that he was supposed to be. Instead, he looked like he was on his way to a nine-to-five desk job.

Sighing, he tried to shake away this realization and move forward. He approached the scarily tall and buff bouncer guarding the entrance and dictating who was and wasn't allowed entry. As soon as he spotted Phil in all his weird, lanky glory, he eyed him suspiciously, probably thinking a guy like him didn't belong here. And he would be right, but Phil gulped down his insecurity and held his head up high as if he had all the confidence in the world. He spoke first and made sure his voice didn't waver.

"Phillip Lester," He introduced himself, lips set into a thin, grim line. The bouncer raised an amused eyebrow. "I should be on the list."

At first, the bouncer made no move to check his clipboard and verify his statement. Probably because he thought there was no way he was on that list. But when Phil held his expectant stare, silently ordering him to check, the bouncer seemed to realize he wouldn't leave until he did. So, just to amuse him, he complied, flipping through a couple of pages and pursing his lips together in slight irritation. But just as quickly, his face fell and he could see in his eyes the realization harshly dawning on him. Phil found himself smirking proudly.

"My apologies, Mr. Lester. Come right in."

"Thank you." He replied coldly, mentally thanking whatever god was up there that he hadn't made a fool of himself yet. Although something told him that it was only a matter of time.

Just as he'd expected, there were women every which way, dancing and laughing along with the customers, putting on rather risque shows. Tight navals and liberated bosoms were very difficult to avoid, and Phil's pale cheeks were heating up with every passing second.

He ignored anyone who tried courting him, all the Yokai members incognito eyeing him up and down like a predator would its pray. He made his way toward the back where the VIP's often hung out. He had to walk through  a velvet red curtain before he spotted a woman seated shamelessly on another man's lap. She was swooning over him, caressing his chest and giggling at everything he said. He grinned egotistically, a loose hand draped carelessly over the woman's hip. Phil did his best to ignore this flagrant display of lust and took a seat across from them, neatly placing his hands inside one another on the table. The man squeezed the woman's hip once and spoke under his breath. The woman nodded and peeled herself from his lap and strutted away. In the few seconds of silence between them that there were, Phil took this opportunity to eye him up and down.

He'd met this man a couple of time before. He was very easily recognizable even if he didn't know his name. He often decorated himself in flamboyant and extravagant accessories, something of a cross between '70s aesthetic and grandiose cabaret attire with a hint of punk rock. His ivory face was always smooth like silk, his hair longer than Phil's even and often left to hang carelessly, framing his head. His eyes were quite droopy and always glazed over with apathy and intoxication. Overall, he had a very androgynous appearance, leaving Phil to think that the only reason women loved all over him all the time was because of his rich status.

He never commented on it, though. No, he wouldn't dare say anything to criticize this man because whether he liked it or not, despite his sleazy demeanor, he was one of the most powerful members of _The Yokai_. In fact, within this world of dangerous criminals, he was infamously known as The Queen's right hand man, often taking her place in meetings such as this. He grinned at him, looking overjoyed and strung out.

"Heeey," He drawled happily, splaying his thin arms out on either side of himself almost like he wanted a hug. "Philly Boy! It's so nice to see you! How've you been?"

Phil cleared his throat.

"Pleasure to see you, too, Mr. Barrett. I'm well, and yourself?"

"Oh how many times do I gotta tell you? Stop with the formalities, babe, just call me Emerson." He smiled, head nearly lolling backwards. Phil inwardly flinched at the unabashed pet name.

Ignoring it, he simply ran a hand through his hair. Just then, another woman came up to their table decorated in over-the-top, shimmery make up and scantily clad. She wordlessly set some kind of red cocktail in front of him, gave one last knowing smile, and walked away again.

Before he could question it, Emerson spoke up.

"I took the liberty of ordering you a little something before you got here, I figured you'd quite parched after the long journey."

Reaching for his wallet, he replied "Thank you-how much will that be?"

"Oh no babe, it's on me."

Phil wanted to insist that he pay for it, but he was too afraid of unintentionally insulting him, and by extension, The Queen as well. And he didn't fancy losing his head during this fine evening.

"Well thank you, Mr-" He cleared his throat real quick. "Emerson."

Emerson waved it away without a single care in the world. "Anything for our guest of honor. Might I offer you an escort or two to go with that?"

The glass had been raised up to his lips, and Phil's eyes nearly shot out of his sockets. He was just glad he'd managed to keep from spitting the fruity red cocktail all over himself. 

He knew what he was referring to when he said an escort or two, and just hearing this unspoken suggestion filled him to the brim with mounting guilt. Of course, all of these poor girls would be more than happy to let their bodies be used as toys if it meant pleasing The Yokai. He wanted to be sick.

"I-I think I'll pass on that offer, but thank you anyway."

Emerson smirked at Phil's reaction. He was thankful he found it amusing rather than insulting.

"Of course," he chuckled. He then leaned forward on his arms and looked at Phil knowingly. It was easy to see beneath all of these drawled and slightly slurred words lay a truly cruel man who'd committed countless atrocities all in the name of The Queen. And he'd probably enjoyed them, too.

 _Sick bastard_.

"I understand your mistress is interested in ending this decades long feud," He started, hoping he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. Emerson licked his lips.

"Indeed, she is. She's grown rather tired of all this fighting, all these petty games."

It was physically painful for Phil to keep himself from throwing this cocktail right in Emerson's stupid face for calling their rivalry _petty_. Petty was a huge understatement if he'd ever heard any. People have been _dying_ because of their hatred for one another. There have been countless massacres, unsolved murders, innocent bystanders being caught in the crossfire and losing their lives because _The Yokai_ were merciless tyrants who wanted to make an example of whoever was unlucky enough to fall victim. They terrorized the country of England all for the sake of power and control. They made Phil sick, and he was sure his father would be sorely disappointed and betrayed if he knew his own son were trying to form an alliance with these monsters.

He was disappointed in himself for this, but what other choice was there? Too many people have gotten hurt, too many people have been killed. He already lost his father and his baby sister because of them. And they were simply too strong to go up against. God forbid if they ever decided to go after Dan...

"I think I'll have to agree with her," Phil said, pretending as if he wasn't affected by all the destruction left in their wake. "It's all quite moot, if I'm being honest. All this competition over clientele..." ' _All this blood on our hands_ '.

"Glad to know we're all on the same page," Emerson beamed. "Despite some of the conflicts we've gotten into over the years, Her Majesty holds a lot of respect for you and your empire."

"Does she now?"

 _Liar_ , he wanted to call him. The Queen didn't give a shit about his empire. The only thing she was interested in was ultimate and unquestioned supremacy.

"Of course she does, your father built something more than worthy of respect and admiration," Emerson plucked his own glass off the table and drank graciously. He then leaned back against the booth and sighed despairingly. "Such a shame, the tragedy bestowed upon him," he gazed at Phil up through his eyelashes. An unspoken warning that if he stepped out of line, he would be next. But he disguised this warning as tender sympathy. "He's lucky he has a charismatic and intelligent son to carry on his legacy."

"Please," He forced an appreciative smile. "You flatter me too much."

Emerson simpered.

"It's true. We are truly lucky you've agreed to negotiate with us."

 _Agreement? More like blackmailed into this_.  But Phil couldn't help but think himself lucky that they hadn't slaughtered him yet.

"I should be saying the same to you, Emerson." The name tasted like cyanide on his tongue. "But, let's do away with all this flattery and praise for the time being, what do you say?"

"Alright," he replied. Suddenly, his harsh features had darkened and Phil could feel himself sinking lower and lower. Of course this wouldn't be that easy. Emerson sense his unease, but didn't do anything to remedy the situation. "Now, as much Her Majesty would love to finally have you under her wing, it is of course not without a few...requests, for your part."

He tensed. 

He knew it. There would be conditions; strings attached. The Queen wanted something, and he hoped on his lucky stars that it was something feasible. Something that wouldn't require any more blood to be spilled.

"Normally we wouldn't even bother entertaining the idea of an alliance with anyone with a history of besmirching our name."

' _You besmirch yourselves_ '.

"But as is it turns our, along with harboring a great deal of respect for what you run, The Queen has a rather soft spot for you in particular."

Phil's eyes took up half his face at this. Now _this_ was something he'd never heard before.

This couldn't be true, could it? There was no way...and what did that even mean? _A rather soft spot for you_ , was that just even more shallow cajolery or was there some truth to this?

"She does? Well, I'm quite honored."

"Indeed," Emerson hummed. "If it weren't for that, it's likely this little meeting here would never happen. But she speaks very highly of you and believes you and your men would be a great asset to our business."

"I would do my best."

"I'm sure you would," his tone almost sounded condescending, but he hid it with a playful chuckle. Phil busied himself, using this drink as a crutch to quell the tension between them.

"What does The Queen wish from me, if I may ask?"

Emerson smiled.

"Nothing too crazy, she just wants to be sure you'll remain loyal to The Yokai, and that you won't use your newfound position of sovereignty to turn against us...which, I'm certain you won't. We trust you wouldn't try anything so foolish..."

Another warning cloaked beneath lacy compliments.

The sleaze-bag's tone lightened up again all of a sudden, taking on a slightly more exasperated front.

"Unfortunately, we've had to deal with some rather...gross insubordination in the past few months. Employees who thought they could get away with stealing from us and making a profit of their own off our production, and in turn selling cases of liquor over a grade lower than our usual standard, trying to pass it off as our own. As you're probably already aware, we don't take too kindly to those who intentionally put a blight on our business reputation. A lot of retailers were disappointed, thinking the decrease in quality was of _our_ doing. Shame, too. We put a lot of faith in these two men. And to have them turn around and betray us the way they did..."

Phil didn't want to know what became of these two men.

He gulped down his fear.

"Because of this unexpected betrayal, as you can imagine, The Queen's trust in...those unfamiliar, have gone down. Of course, she--we would all love for the past to be the past. Let bygones be bygones, you can never be too careful."

"Mr. Barrett, you can tell The Queen that I have no intention of intentionally slandering The Yokai's name. I am many things, but a swindler is not one of them."

"Oh, I know. But orders are orders. And if you are serious of merging our two empires into one strong union then we must be sure of your true intent."

"And you do you plan on getting this reassurance?"

Emerson blinked his gaze back over to him. A small hint of a smile graced his lips and he took his time in drinking from his glass, studying him as if to see if he would try and do something that would give him an excuse to cause mayhem. To punish him.

"Her Majesty has requested that all product manufacturing be kept supervised under her watch, to prevent another incident like that happening again."

Phil let out an inaudible, long exhale. This, he could do. He wasn't thrilled about it, but it would be fine, he was sure...but surely that wasn't it, was it?

"Alright, I can do with that...but that's not all she wants from me, there's more. Isn't there?"

"Smart man, you are."

His gut tightened, the suspense eating him from the inside out. Emerson seemed to be amused by his discomfort. He took his sweet, sweet time in finishing off his cocktail and sighing the happiest slob in the world. Phil tried to remain as cordial and polite as possible, but he had to admit, his patience was beginning to wear thin and the anxiety was currently holding a gun to his head. 

"If it's money she wants-"

"Ha--HA!" Emerson exploded into childlike laughter, throwing his head back and wiping away stray tears that had surfaced from his ducts. Phil's face went red from embarrassment. 

"No, no. Heh, no. I can assure you, money is not the issue. We're quite well off, thank you." 

"I-I'm sorry, that wasn't what I meant." 

"Oh, don't sweat it babe." 

Another scantily clad woman ornamented with bright sequins and almost obnoxious glitter across her tanned skin came by and swapped out Emerson's empty glass for another one, filled with the same liquid as before. Though Phil didn't know exactly what he was drinking, he knew it must have been strong because he was already swaying in his seat, having a hard time focusing on one thing in particular. His words were beginning to blend in with one another and some of them sounded gargled. Phil couldn't decided if this made him more intimidating, or if it just made him seem pathetic. In any case, it wasn't a good idea to push his buttons. 

He took another generous gulp and met his eye once more. He then pointed his index finger at him, elbow cemented onto the table. 

"The Queen is more than willing to work with you, and so far, you've shown us you're willing to cooperate. We appreciate that, we really do." 

"We?" 

"Eyes everywhere, baby." 

Another fearful gulp. Of course Emerson wasn't the only one aware of this conversation. The Queen herself could have been in here, and he had a hunch that she just might be. Was she the one seated across his lap when he got here not ten minutes ago? Was she the one who'd just replaced his drink? Or was she the bartender in the pinstripe vest fifteen feet away? 

She was everywhere, but she was nowhere. 

"I hope you'll understand when I tell you that if we are ever going to make this work, we need to be aware of every single move that you, or any of your men make. There are to be no secrets, no conspiracies, no plans to go against us. Her Majesty will be informed on _everything_ that goes on between clients and employers, any future investments, anything at all. And of course, she will get the final say on what does and does not happen." 

He paused to let the words sink in before leaning forward and cupping Phil's cheek with his calloused palm. 

"And if we ever find out you've violated any of the terms I've laid out for you tonight, it won't just be your life on the line."

"What do you...what do you mean?" 

Another cruel simper. 

"Don't think we don't know about that little friend of yours. What was his name again....Dan? Was it?" 

Phil's heart dropped the second his name left his lips and all the color from his face had been whisked away. 

Dan. They were threatening him with Dan's life, and the possibility of taking it away. Just like they did with Jack, Naomi, and Lola. And quite possibly Lola's birth mother as well. In short, they've hurt everyone Phil loved except for Dan, and he intended to protect his best friend until his last dying breath. And if agreeing to be allies with these depraved criminals meant compromising that promise, then he wanted nothing to do with them. He would not risk losing the only person he has left. 

Squaring his shoulders, he made sure his voice was louder than before. 

"Hypothetically speaking," he started. "What would happen if I were to refuse these terms and back out of the alliance?" 

Emerson stiffened, knowing fully well what Phil was getting at. His smile faded into a grave stare. 

"It would be a real shame if that were to be the case, I'll tell you that much. Let me say that I'm glad it's not, because if it were, that would mean that our time had been wasted, that the Lester Empire had no intentions of following through from the start. To discard this offer of alliance would be to discard the cease-fire we've had for some time, now. It would say to us that you are no longer interested in peace between us two. And all limitations from before would no longer apply...all would be fair game." 

_Including Dan._

So this would mean, now, that Phil no longer had a choice in whether or not he wanted to let The Queen take control of his empire. Not unless he wanted his friend to be alive, that is. It was either agree and risk someone stepping out of line and risk losing him, or refuse and guarantee the downfall of everything he cared about. 

It seemed Her Majesty had him backed into a corner, now. She had him exactly where she wanted. He had no clue of what Her Majesty looked like, if she were a fair maiden or the most beautiful woman to ever walk the Earth. But right now, Phil imagined her to be the wicked witch of the west. He imagined her as the devil himself. He couldn't think of anyone else he hated the most than The Queen in this moment, and he wished more than anything that he could take his hands and wrap them around her neck and squeeze until she was no more. To take a knife and slit her little throat and end her reign of terror over the UK. To bury her alive, to smile viciously as her air supply eventually depleted and she could do nothing but choke, and choke, and cough and choke until her lips turned blue and her pulse ran out. 

But this ultimatum left Phil defenseless. He had no option other than to comply. 

He knew it. Emerson knew it. 

"So, what do you say Philly boy?" 

He forced a pleasant smile, lips taut and hands quivering. Despite his massive stature and the fact that he towered over Emerson when they were standing, he felt like he was three feet tall. 

"It's a pleasure and an honor to finally join The Queen and her empire."


	4. Chapter 4

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.**

~~~~~

One of the fondest memories Dan had of Lola was when she was very young, sixteen, about to turn seventeen years old. He was as old as she would have been if she were alive today. 

The Lesters were on holiday down in America, Hawaii, he believed. It was shortly before things had started taking a turn for the worst. Before Phil had taken his father's place, and before Lola's birth mother-Jack's second wife-had killed herself. Allegedly. Everything had been so simple, so innocent. Dan remembered being invited with the Lesters to come along, an invitation he accepted only because Lola had asked him to. Had it not been for her, he likely would have spent his week at home alone in bed, re-watching old teen dramas and neglecting to feed himself. That had been the original plan, but she'd asked-no, she'd  _begged_  him  to come with her. And there was no way Dan could say no to those glimmering, doll-like eyes. She'd had him wrapped around her little finger without even trying. She could have asked him to kill a man and he would've done so.

It was one of their last days in Hawaii, the two of them were out and about, determined to make the most of what little time they had left. The sky was free of clouds, and the pleasant scent of leftover rain from the storm the night before was still lingering. Dan was still dressed in all black, like most days, but his arms had been free to breathe as she'd convinced him to leave his coat back in the hotel room. And because he'd forgotten his flat iron back at home, his natural, curly hair had started to make its presence known. He was embarrassed about it for the first day or so until she'd expressed to him how much she loved his hair in its natural state. Later, he'd come to suspect she'd hidden the flat iron herself. She was devious like that sometimes. But he couldn't bring himself to be angry with her. He didn't understand how anyone could. With those sparkling black eyes, pale blonde hair-he practically worshiped. It curled and bounced around her heart-shaped face. She wore a black, pleated skirt and a form fitting camisole that had been slowly riding up her tight tummy as the day went on. 

" _Lola, you're going to crack your skull open, I swear to god._ "

Apprehension seeped into his chest as he watched her skip across the colorful rocks and boulders. He cringed when her chunky boots scraped against their surfaces and he'd thought she'd break her neck before her other foot caught her weight. He made sure to stay as close as possible should she lose her balance. 

" _No I won't_ ," she sang carelessly. " _And neither will you as long as I'm around._ " 

Dan frowned. " _You're not invincible, I hope you're aware._ "

" _I never said I was_." She shot back playfully, hopping off the last rock and landing harshly against the sleek wood bridge. She spun gracefully on her toes and grabbed Dan's long arm, encouraging him to join on her whimsical pirouettes. He chuckled, but didn't break free from his slouched posture.

" _But I'm not a weak damsel, either._ " 

" _I never said you were_." 

This time, Lola was the one who frowned. The look didn't suit her soft features, which always wore a carefree smile. He immediately wanted to make things better, because seeing her face contort like that pained him, no matter how small the issue may have been. 

" _You don't have to say it. You and everyone else I know...You all think I can't take care of myself, that I can't defend myself if I ever needed to. Even Phil's started treating me like a stupid child, just like mom and dad._ " 

" _They're just trying to protect you-_ " he'd tried. 

" _They can do that without undermining everything I do_." She'd cut him off. And though he'd had to agree with her parents to an extent seeing as how small she was, he also knew she was quite capable of fending off anyone who might want to hurt her if she really wanted. 

Lola sighed. " _I understand they just want me safe, and I appreciate it. But I'd like some room to breathe every once in a while. To make friends without having to worry about them chasing them away. It took_  two  _years for them to get used to Naomi_." 

" _Oh be fair, they like her_."

" _They tolerate her._ " She corrected. " _I'm sure they'd put me on a leash and keep me in a kennel if they could._ " 

" _Lola_ -"

" _They already treat me like a dog, I might as well be one."_  She grumbled. 

_"Okay, now you're just being over dramatic."_

" _Am I?_ " She challenged. Dan's shoulders slumped when she released his arms and ceased her light prancing. She then hoisted herself up onto the bridge's railing. Dan tensed at this and walked closer. 

The fall wouldn't have been deadly by any means, there had only been a tranquil lake beneath, but there were still an abundance of things to scathe her flawless flesh, should she tumble over. At first, he thought she'd just take a seat on top and that'd be it, but his pulse picked up when she climbed to her feet and waltzed with the grace of a ballerina, skirt swaying around her thighs. 

" _What do you think you're doing? Lola, get down!"_

 _"I mean, does it look like I need a personal body guard everywhere I go?"_  She asked rhetorically, completely ignoring his command. 

" _Lo, I'm serious!_ " He tried grasping on to her hand but she slipped away before he could. 

" _So am I_."

And with that,, she stepped over the ledge without even blinking and disappeared beneath the elevated platform. Dan's heart was about to explode inside his rib cage and he immediately shot forward, scrambling to catch her and yelling out loudly. 

" _LOLA!_ "

Before he could have a full on heart attack, she reappeared all of a sudden, arms clasped behind her back, face knowing. Underneath her boots were a pair of past white, disembodied hands supporting her weight, allowing her to walk in mid air. 

" _Dear god...!_ " He huffed with relief, but the nearly fainted just as quickly. She floated back to ground level, and the second her feet touched the wood, Dan snatched her arm before she could get away again. She grinned a mischievous grin. 

" _Are you actually insane!?_ " He'd forced his voice into a sharp whisper. " _Do you_  want  _to become a public spectacle? To put yourself in danger!?_ "

" _Now who's being over dramatic?_ " She teased. 

" _Lo, you know what could happen if any one of your father's enemies found out of this ability of yours_." 

Lola rolled her eyes like he was nothing more than a nagging mother. Irritation gnawed at his gut, but he couldn't help but feel sympathetic with her anyway. After all, he knew it wasn't fair the way they treated her sometimes. If he were in her shoes, he would have gone crazy a long time ago. 

" _But we're nowhere near them. We're on_ holiday _, Dan._ " 

_"You know what your father would say, though."_

Another sigh from her. 

_"You can never be too safe, yes. I know."_

She went quiet after that, and Dan was afraid she was upset with him because he knew he sounded like Jack, not her friend. He wanted to hug her, to put an arm around her--something! But weariness kept him restrained. 

Just then, he felt her delicate little hand encase over his own, fingers twining together. He craned his neck to look down at her, but she didn't meet his gaze. 

_"I probably sound like such a brat."_

_"You don't sound like a brat, you just sound fed up."_

She snorted indignantly. He knew, then, that he was right. She had been fed up for years and he wasn't helping. But even so, she never stayed upset with him for long. Even when things grew tense, Lola was never afraid to do things like grab his hand or wrap her own around his waist. If they didn't know any better, people might mistake them for a married couple. Dan never corrected anyone who called her his girlfriend. 

One of the most defining part of her character, Dan had learned over the years, was that she had a hard time speaking her mind, so she often spoke with actions and appreciative gestures rather than mere words. It was also one of the things he loved most about her. She never spoke empty words. 

She'd clung on to him for the rest of the day as they wandered around, ogling at souvenir shops and eating Hawaiian delicacies. He definitely wasn't complaining when she rested her head on his lap, too short to reach his shoulders. He recalled her falling asleep using his thighs as a pillow, his palm resting protectively over her head. It was such a sweet and tender sight. So intimate yet so simple. He wished he would have appreciated it more while he had it, because now, he felt empty without her. Of course, Phil would always mean so much to him, but there would always be an aching void inside him as long as she was absent. 

He exhaled, fatigued and crestfallen as he stared out at the dim and dull landscape before him. This was so bleary compared to Hawaii, which was bright, lively, and teeming with welcoming natives more than happy to aid any lost foreigners. Here, it felt like a bland purgatory. 

He buried his hands further into his pockets, gnawed on his sweatshirt string and ambled on, unsure of where he wanted to go. All he knew was that the flat felt like a prison whenever Phil was gone. Usually, he'd be too awkward to venture out by himself, but Dan couldn't stay cooped up for any longer. He shook his head in a lame attempt to clear his thoughts, then continued on. The sky gradually began to dim, streetlights were turning on and the temperatures were dropping. The cold breeze bit as his reddening cheeks until they'd gone numb. As he mindlessly walked on, he noticed the crowds were growing thicker as people gathered around something in particular, something he couldn't see yet. Judging by their bug-eyes and slack jaws, it was safe to assume it wasn't anything good. His muscles stiffened and he knew continuing on this path would lead him to a very grotesque sight. One he shouldn't see. But morbid curiosity was controlling his feet, keeping him from stopping or turning the other way. 

"Do you know what's going on?" he asked the person closest to him, a man in faded jeans. He looked as if he'd just seen a ghost. 

"I wouldn't go over there if I were you." 

"What's happened?" Dan asked again. 

The stranger opened his mouth to speak, but when his voice failed him he simply shut it and shook his head. He then walked off, leaving Dan confused. 

Red and blue lights suddenly danced across his vision and his stomach dropped. 

Against his better judgment, he squeezed himself through the crowd, accidentally elbowing a few people along the way until he reached the yellow tape barrier separating citizens from the scene. He slowly crept his gaze up, up, up until he had a full view of the scene before him. And suddenly, he understood why that guy was left speechless. 

Nailed up against the front of a local shop were two men-dead as door nails. Blood pooled underneath their bare feet, dropping ominously still. Dan couldn't tell what their skin color was, for their whole bodies were painted with the stuff. But they were stark naked, shredded bits of clothes still hanging loosely from their limbs, which were reduced to little more than raw muscle tissue underneath. And their faces...they were missing their eyes, their sockets completely empty and their mouths hung open, revealing their tongues to be gone as well. Their expressions were still horrified, frozen forever in time after staring death in the face. 

For a moment, Dan forgot how to breathe, how to move. Tears were welling behind his eyes already, stinging them and screeching at him to look away, but paralyzing  fear kept his head locked in place. 

Below the men's dripping feet, written with the same crimson fluid in scraggly penmanship were the words " _HAIL TO THE QUEEN_ ".

Pins and needles started up in his hands, rendering them stunned. Somehow, he knew, as did everyone else in England, that whoever had done this was most certainly not referring to Queen Elizabeth II, but rather, the nameless one. The faceless one. 

They must have done something to really piss her off. Dan found himself wondering just what they could have done to deserve such a fate. But then, he could think of few crimes that this punishment was fitting for. Did they do this to everyone who went against  _The Yokai_?

Would they do this to Phil?

Silent tears rolled down Dan's face and the beginning stages of an oncoming panic attack were settling in. The uncontrollable crying, the nonstop shaking of his hands, the feeling of being strapped inside a straight jacket made of his own flesh...and this murmuring crowd was only making it worse. The voices all around him became one with the deafening ringing in his ears. He could tell that if he didn't get out of here in the next thirty seconds, his psyche would snap in half. 

Too horrified to apologize, Dan shoved back through the crowd. Luckily, most everyone were too terrified to care. He even received some sympathetic glances along the way. 

_What this what they had done to Lola?_

The next thing he knew, Dan was doubling over into a garbage can, retching violently and puking up what little he ate today. It was constant nausea for several minutes straight, gagging awfully, his stomach turning inside out. 

When the sickness finally released Dan from its clammy fingers, he wiped off leftover bile from the corner of his mouth with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and whimpered pathetically. He'd finally come to his senses, and he felt a presence nearby--someone was watching him. Every nerve inside of him froze over, a nerve wracking concoction of humiliation and paranoia. Warning bells were going off in his mind as he turned toward the stranger. At first, he thought it was just a curious fan, but when he saw a man even taller than he was dressed in all black and covered in noticeable scars, he cast that thought to the side. He was no fan, what with the way he eyes him like he was a turkey fresh out of the oven. His dry lips pulled into a nasty smile. 

"My Queen has been looking for you."

Before he could make a move to get away, Dan was suddenly eye to eye with the barrel of a loaded gun. 


	5. Chapter 5

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEAR. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.**

~~~~~

The world sounded muffled as Dan stared into the loaded gun. The tears were pouring from his eyes, now, certain he was going to die tonight. He'd never seen a gun in real life before, let alone had one pointed directly at his face. He couldn't blink despite his eyes begging for moisture. His voice was nothing more than a deflated balloon. He knew he should be screaming for help, there was a crowd of people less than a block away, police and detectives could be here within seconds! But would they be able to save him?

He feared the answer to that question, as British police didn't carry firearms. His lips were dry, unable to move. The man's crazed smile only widened at Dan's petrification, half of his teeth having rotted out. It looked as if one punch was enough to snap the rest of them in half. Growling, he said "Don't even think about it, boy."

Dan couldn't find the strength to nod. He only kept his mouth sealed shut much to this  _monster's_ satisfaction. He simpered once before grabbing Dan by the upper arm and forcing him to maintain a steady pace. The scarred man opened up his large coat and placed his gun inside a concealed pocket. His thoughts were screaming at him to wrench himself away and make a run for it To yell out loud for someone's help. To do anything but sit here and be complacent to his demands, to let himself be dragged away like this. But if he made a sound, a bullet would make a home in his frontal lobe before anyone could come to his rescue. If he tried to run, the same thing would happen. And it wouldn't matter how many people saw,  _The Yokai_ were not afraid to openly commit murder, because they knew nothing would happen. It wasn't a secret that they paid off the courts and the politicians, basically anyone with any kind of authority. Which was precisely why any member arrested was always set free on a technicality. And if offering them money wasn't enough, they were known to go after entire families. 

It was fucked up, but if Dan somehow did manage to get away, they would find him and they would punish him. If The Queen really wanted him...

But what could she want with him? He was a nobody, he didn't matter. He hadn't done anything as far as he knew. Was it something he'd said in a video?

No, that couldn't be it. He never once mentioned  _The Yokai_ in his content, never spoke of all the shit that went on in his country. And besides all of that, he hadn't uploaded anything in almost two months.

"What have I done!?" He asked in a panic, voice breaking. He received no answer other than an annoyed grunt and the grip on his arm tightening. There were surely going to be finger-shaped bruises left if he got out of this alive. 

"What have I done!?" He tried again. "Please, whatever it is that I've done, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to slander you if it was something I said, whatever I've done I'm sorry! Pleasedon'tkillmepleasedon'tkillmeI'msorrypleasepleasepleaseIdon'twannadieI'msorryple-"

His frantic efforts to atone for whatever crime they thought him guilty of, to prevent himself from becoming like those two poor men, were stopped short when something dense and heavy was suddenly forced over his head, making everything disappear. He could only see black, and maybe a few specks of light peeking through the material. But not enough to know where he was going. 

Then, someone's breath was right up against his hear, sending shivers down his side. 

_"You need to shut the fuck up."_

There was a loud bang, like someone punching a metal tank, and Dan cried out, louder than he had meant to. 

"S'that the guy?"

"Sure is."

"Heh," a heartless chuckle. "Wonder how a little twink like that managed to cross Her Majesty."

"Did we get his name?"

"Daniel," a voice he didn't recognize replied. His heart plummeted. So not even they knew what he had done? "Stupid kid on the internet. Too easy to track him down."

His arms were grabbed again, this time, by two different men. He gasped as he was hurled up into what he could only assume was some kind of vehicle. A door was slammed shut right beside him, and then the vehicle rocked back and forth a few times when two other unknown men hopped inside. One of them sat to Dan's left, pressing something hard against his temple. Another gun, he was sure. 

"Make one move and I'll paint these windows with your brain."

"I'm sorry!" He whimpered, barely audible through whatever they'd put over his head. What was he apologizing for?

"No gal, just like all the rest of them."

"Be fair, little boys' probably being led to his execution."

Dan couldn't stop himself from releasing a strangled sob, all hope leaving him like water down a drain. 

This was his last night on Earth and he was spending it alone and afraid. 

The man holding him at gunpoint laughed at his misery. 

"If she wanted him dead, she would have just ordered us to kill him right now."

A spark of hope flashed inside of him.  _Was_ there hope after all?

"Or maybe she wants to deliver the final blow herself."

He was about to be sick again. What did The Queen want with him!? What did she want  _from_ him!? Was he going to kill him or let him live? It was torture, not knowing. Torture listening to these mobsters bicker over what could happen as if they weren't talking about someone's life. 

"Don't be stupid! That would only be a waste of her time!"

"Then why don't we just take care of him for her?"

"Put that thing down, Rodrick! Orders are orders! If she didn't say to kill him, we're not killing him! I don't even want to imagine what she'd do if we did something we weren't supposed to."

"Will you two quit your yapping? What do we care what she wants with the boy? Just bring him to her and we'll be done with it, it's not that hard." 

A beat of silence, then "I'm just curious." 

"Well stop with it. He doesn't matter to us."

"Fine."

The men moved on rather quickly, and Dan couldn't decide if this was a relief or if it just scared him more. All he did know was that he couldn't begin to fathom how these people could be so nonchalant about something so cruel. Was this everyday life for these savages? Was Dan just another name on a long list of victims destined to face The Queen's wrath? Was this what Phil would be dealing with if he agreed to become allies with them? If so, he desperately hoped he wouldn't go through with it. He didn't care about the Lesters or the Lester's business. He didn't care if they lost all their money and he didn't care about him looking after Jack's empire while he was comatose. He wouldn't be waking up anyway. Not after all this time. Bankruptcy would be a mild inconvenience compared to what  _The Yokai_  and their Queen would do to him. Dan didn't want that for Phil, he couldn't stand him risking his life for something that had been forced upon his shoulders. 

He never asked to be the boss. He never wanted to be in charge. He wasn't cut out for it, even Dan knew this. Phil was too good of a person, he'd kill himself before he'd ever hurt anyone else. He wasn't anything like the soulless, sociopathic witch they called a Queen. 

Through the mindless chattering, the low synths coming from the radio and his scattered thoughts, he'd realized the vehicle had stopped. He sniffled, but it was useless for the tears and snot streaming down all the way beneath his sweater. 

The door opened up again and he was roughly pulled back out. He hadn't the slightest clue of where he was, the only hint was the distinctive clacking of their shoes against a marble floor. He struggled to keep up in the vice tight grip, afraid he'd trip over something and split open his cranium. Although a part of him almost wished that would happen because it would surely be a batter way to go than whatever  _she_ had planned for him.

"This should be interesting." He practically heard the man's menacing grin.

_"Shut up!"_

Dan was lead down a long hallway, one he thought would never end until they came to an abrupt stop, and one of his captors knocked on what sounded like a pretty massive wooden door. 

The silence while they waited for an answer was unbearable. There was no tapping of a foot, ticking of a clock or humming of a song. It was so quiet, it would sound like an earthquake if a tear fell to the floor.

Silence was one of many things that Dan couldn't stand. It forced him to think of all the scenarios that could play out. All of which ended badly. 

"You may enter." Another male voice called from inside. The beating against Dan's rib cage was overpowering. He didn't need anyone to say anything to know that this was where The Queen dwelled more often than not. And him being blind just made the wave of potent energy washing over him that much more intense. It was comparable to crackling electricity, dormant and benign for the time being, but ready to flare up and go off, destroying anything in its path at the slightest provocation. The Queen's energy was a nuclear bomb and he was terrified at being stuck on ground zero.

He heard the door swing open and there was a sharp nudge between his shoulder blades as well as the clamps on his arms. They could definitely feel how hard he was shaking and probably would have laughed had they not been in their mistress's presence. 

The air became a thousand times more un-breathable as he was ushered in. He stopped when his captors stopped. 

Things were quiet once again, the unease, crippling. For a moment, he thought they were not saying a word or making a sound just to torment him. But then...

_"KNEEL!"_

Dan shrieked and without trying to decipher if the man was talking to him or not, he automatically let himself collapse to his knees, wincing as they suffered a sharp pang beneath his weight. There was a pleased hum from a near distance, presumably from the same man who'd issued the command. Another moment of stillness ensued. One beat, two...then there were footsteps and his breath hitched. Was is The Queen coming over, like a hungry lion? Dan's childish sniffling never ceased. So much for dying with a little bit of dignity. 

The burlap sack enveloping his head was ripped away without warning and the sudden bright lighting nearly blinded him. He squeezed his eyes shut and began whispering rushed apologies. 

" _I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry-_ "

A hand clamped over his mouth. 

"Silence."

Dan looked up, bleary eyed, and sighed through his nostrils. 

It was not The Queen. Just another one of her pawns, though based off the way everyone else cowered in his presence, he must have been one of the higher-ups. He wasn't dressed in all black and white like everyone else. Rather, he looked like he'd just come crawling out of a Spencer's advertisement. He smirked the second his red-rimmed eyes met Dan's chestnut ones. He gulped. 

"Looks like you guys scared the poor thing half to death."

He said it like he took pity on him, but there was a hint of amusement somewhere on his face. This man's voice was sickeningly sweet, like a demented lullaby. It made Dan think he had something terrible planned. 

The man reached down so his sharp nose almost collided with Dan's cheek. His breath stunk of hard liquor. The man hummed, examining his light-skinned face, dark eyes, tear stains, all of it. Dan wanted to continue in his forlorn and likely moot pleads, but he'd already been silenced once, he didn't have a desire to test his boundaries. 

The man cocked his head to the side. 

"Your Majesty, care to come take a look?" He quirked a thin brow over toward the desk at the front and i was only then that Dan realized someone had been sitting there the entire time. 

The Queen. 

He couldn't see anything but a leather-gloved hand tapping inaudibly against the desk, waiting patiently. As calm as can be. Nothing like the psychotic killer he'd pictured in his head. But then, Ted Bundy seemed like a pretty charismatic fellow and look how that turned out. 

The tapping suddenly stopped, her hand going still. The back of her chair was facing all of them, and her arm retracted back out of sight. All of the men awaited eagerly, never daring to utter a word. No one was brave enough to tell her to hurry up. 

There was a click, a small gust of wind, then another click. He heard her sigh in a leisurely manner and a cloud of gray, almost white smoke arose from the top of the chair, curling and swirling and eventually dissipating up into the air. There was the slight rustling of fabric, then she was turning around in her seat. Dan's pulse was throbbing so hard and so fast, it felt like it wasn't there at all. His entire face had gone numb. 

This was it, wasn't it?

The moment of truth. 

An almost unnaturally strong hand with skin akin to that of cement snatched the back of his head and made him look down. He could see the reflection in the flawless marble and he cringed inwardly at how wretched he looked; tears, sweat and grime caked his skin, making him look even more pathetic than he felt. But he was almost relieved when another pair of hands, he assumed from the man behind him, covered his eyes. He didn't fight it as The Queen finally rose from her chair, he heels click, click, clicking against the polished ground. As they got louder, so did Dan's mental pleading. 

' _Pleasedon'tkillmepleasedon'tkillmepleasedon'tkillme_ -'

Being in the same room as that tyrant, kneeling before her, completely at her mercy...Dan no longer cared about how much he despised her and everything she'd stood for. He'd pledge his eternal allegiance to her, kiss her ring, publicly praise  _The Yokai_ , anything! Anything to keep this facetious devil at bay. Whatever it was he'd done, he'd atone for it in abundance. He'd  _pray_ for her forgiveness if he had to. 

" _I'm sorry_ ," he whispered, crying harder.

A freezing cold hand grasped gently on his chin, and instantaneously, Dan was beginning to scream and whimper and sob uncontrollably.

_She was putting her hands on him! She was gonna snap his neck, she was gonna dig her thumbs into his eyes, he would be just like those two men!_

"No-PLEASE! I'M SORRY!"

"Sshh," she shushed him gently like a mother trying to comfort her crying child. Dan calmed down, but couldn't stop his endless crying. Much to his surprise, no one screamed at him to shut his mouth. The Queen didn't even comment on his incessant weeping. She only persisted, lifting his chin to look at her, though his vision was still obscured. 

His sobs persisted. She still said nothing, turning his head from side to side. Studying him, running her cold fingers through his hair. Her icy touch left wintry tingles along his scalp. It was strangely calming, but gun-churning all the same. 

Another gust of wind and the flutter of fabric. Then something soft was pressing up against his cheek, gingerly wiping away his tears, the contents of his running nose. Soon, his face felt clear again almost. Although his sobbing still hadn't subsided. 

Along with fear, befuddlement flooded his system. 

She was showing him kindness, cleaning him off. She hadn't once laid an ill hand on him, and he was starting to wonder if this was merely the calm before the storm. Maybe she was making him think she would show mercy before she unleashed true hell upon him. 

The Queen took a step away from Dan, blowing out another puff of smoke. She then clucked her tongue disapprovingly. 

"Uh uh uh," said the man who'd first told him to Kneel. He also clucked his tongue, probably shaking his head, too. "Her Majesty never told you to bring this poor thing into her office, especially under such cruel conditions. Whatever happened to diplomacy, huh gentlemen?"

"Wait, but...you-Your Majesty, you gave us the order to find Daniel Howell. W-We did what you asked."

"Did I just hear someone back talking Her Majesty?"

"Huh? N-No! That's not what we-I just meant-"

"She gave you the order, Mr. Stackhouse, to find the boy, which you did. But she never told you to bring him here. In fact, if my memory served me well, I believe she  _explicitly_ told you to leave him be until further notice. She never gave you the authorization to tamper with him in any way. Let alone treat him like some sort of animal. Isn't that right, My Queen?" 

She must have given him a nod of sorts. 

"Did you not think your actions through at all, Mr. Stackhouse?"

"I-I"

"Did you not stop to think what would happen if Mr. Lester caught wind of this incident?"

No one answered, making The Queen's right hand man growl. 

_"ANSWER ME!"_

Dan jumped and let out a little gasp, glad that he was no longer taking the brunt of his verbal assaults, but he still hated the sound of his yelling all the same.

"O-Our intentions have always been to serve Her Majesty-" an overwrought shuffling, Dan assumed he'd knelt as well. "-we are truly sorry Mistress! All we ever wanted was to please you!" A desperate gasp. "Please take mercy on us!"

"Mercy?" Her main pawn scoffed. "Do you not realize how you've put our alliance with the Lester Empire in jeopardy?"

No one had the courage to answer, as the weight of their error was finally sinking in on them. 

So they were never meant to abduct Dan. They were never meant to kill him. They'd made a mistake. One they were sure to pay for. Was he meant to feel relieved at this? That he wasn't going to die tonight? Why would she want to find him in the first place? He knew so far that whatever her reasons were, they had something-or everything to do with Phil. 

He'd been anticipating for her pawn to raise his voice again; to demand an explanation. But he did something so much worse. He remained calm. 

"You and your comrades beg for mercy, Mr. Stackhouse. But you know as well as everyone else that The Queen does not tolerate insubordination on any level whether intentional or not. Her Majesty is a very busy woman who wastes no time on disobedient pests...however this may be, mercy shall be granted."

A chorus of apologies and thank-yous erupted from his captors, praising The Queen, swooning over how kind she was. Even Dan's mind was starting to clear as the air became tighter. His buzzing nerves were finally beginning to even out. Maybe things would be okay after all.

"Your death shall be quick and painless."

"WHAT!?" "WAITWAIT-" "NO PLEASE, WE WON'T-"

Nobody had any time to react or to make a run for it as all the dead was reaching a fever pitch. Dan's nausea had come crashing back into him, the realization that something horrible was about to happen twisting his insides. He said nothing, quaking on his tender knees, wheezing behind the hands over his eyes. All of their hysterical attempts at redemption were cut short by a wet explosion, something like a wad of paint being hurled at a wall, or someone stomping on a pile of grapes with all of their might. Something splattered all over Dan's body, staining his clothes and skin, dripping back down onto the floor. The hands over his face and the one gripping the back of his head were no longer there, but he was too afraid of what he might see. He had no way of telling what had just become of those worthless pawns, but it didn't take a genius to decipher that it was not paint soiling his attire. 

His breaths were coming out in shaky, warbled intervals, an occasional whine or mewl slipping out. An indifferent hum sounded in the air. 

"Oh dear, you've got blood all over yourself, My Queen."

The Queen gave no reply. 

Her heels clacked a few more times while she made her way back to her desk and sat down. A click and a sigh were heard, no doubt her cigarette had been rendered useless after having all that fluid ruin it. 

Against all of his internal warnings, Dan dared to peek through his eyelids to see The Queen's chair was turned so she was out of sight once more. 

Everything in the room was covered in red. Endless splotches of crimson started underneath where he was kneeling, extending outward and up to all the walls, the ceiling, slow drips raining softly from the ceiling fan and landing in Dan's hair. There was practically nothing left of the men who'd taken him except for a body-less arm, hand or foot here and there. Even her right hand man was drenched in the stuff, although it didn't seem to bother him at all. In fact, his inhuman smile was still spread across his lip. A shrill wail remained lodged in Dan's throat, itching to be released but never finding the strength to do so. Dan felt like a pot over a stove, ready to boil over at any second. Everything inside of him was demanding to be released, and when he couldn't scream, he slumped over instead and gagged at the sickening stench of death. Bile heaved out of his mouth, spilling down along with the bright red blood. 

"Aww," her pawn cooed with mock sympathy. "I think poor baby's had enough."


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm not gonna lie, guys, I was high as fuck when I wrote a majority of this chapter lmao.**

~~~~~

The gelid London winds brushing through Dan's damp hair was almost refreshing as he sat alone on a curb, staring down at his hands. The shaking had gone down and he was no longer bawling like a newborn. Most of the fear had left him, but now he didn't know what to feel. The men who had taken him at gunpoint had been killed tonight. He had no clue how The Queen was able to do whatever  _that_ was to them, and if he were being honest, he was perfectly okay with that. He was just thankful he hadn't seen the actual process of their execution, the aftermath was bad enough. Seeing all that blood everywhere, all those disconnected body parts-that picture would remain burned in Dan's mind for the rest of his life, he could already tell. 

Having all of that blood splattered all over himself as well had really been the last straw for his gag reflex. Being covered in all that shit had him feeling queasy, even now, almost two hours after it had happened. It had all been washed off, but he still had to look down at himself every so often just to be sure. It was like being paranoid after seeing a spider in your room that it was crawling all over your back without you knowing. But amplified, because those were  _human remains_. Dan felt  guilty and disgusting for it, like  _he_ was the one who'd committed those murders. Which of course, he knew was beyond ridiculous as he was there in The Queen's office against his will. It wasn't his fault that three men were brutally killed-hell, he was barely even a witness.

It just blew his mind how one woman was able to do  _that_ without even blinking-at least he assumed. Of course, he'd never gotten to see what The Queen looked like, hadn't even gotten to hear her speak. She'd let her right hand man do all of the talking instead, whom of which he came to learn was named Emerson.

Emerson had been somewhat kind to Dan, it not a little threatening at times. Under orders of The Queen, he'd given him a new change of clothes, let him use one of their showers, and even paid him upfront more money than he could count. 

To ensure his silence, he was sure. He knew better than to refuse their attempts at bribery, but he was also too scared to ask if Phil would be okay.

He heard Emerson mention how they wanted to remain on good terms with the Lester Empire, so he couldn't imagine they wanted to hurt him. He just wished it was enough to reassure him that he would be okay in the long run.

Staring distastefully at that bag of money made his trauma even worse. The fact that they thought money alone was enough to compensate for what they put him through revealed just how scummy and awful they were at heart. Especially that detestable woman, if one could even call her that because there was no way she was human. Humans could not do what she did tonight. They weren't fucked up enough to even consider that. 

This was blood money, and Dan had no interest in using it in his own life. Which was precisely why he'd left it in the lap of a sleeping homeless man a few blocks away-he'd need it more than Dan did. He wouldn't want to be sick at the mere prospect of spending it. 

But now, what was he to do? Go home and try to forget this ever happened? deceive Phil and let him think he was out of The Yokai's reach? How was he supposed to go about his life now that everything had been upended? His job was to make videos on the internet, to entertain people, to be himself. But one of the members said that his presence online was the reason they were able to find him so easily. And besides that, he didn't think he could upload a genuine video after this. At least not for a very long time. 

Dan groaned and buried his head in his hands, wishing he had a magic potion to drink that would make him forget everything tonight. He was seriously considering downing an entire bottle of liquor the second he got home if it meant making him forget even for just a measly few hours. Any amount of time with a piece of mind would be a miracle from God.

Fuck, maybe being drunk all the time was the only solution, the only solace he would find from what had transpired. He didn't see how anyone could ever move on from this.

He came back up for air after a few minutes, for once, thankful to be alone but wishing Phil was here at the same time. 

Or even Lola, as much as he knew it wouldn't be.

He would have cried had he not been drained of all his tears already. 

His ears perked up slightly at the sound of nearby footsteps, but he kept his eyes glued to his feet, his tattered sneakers, frayed shoelaces. The soft footsteps gradually got louder, interrupted consistently by a distinctive clicking against the cement. Like someone was walking with a stick or a cane. 

Closing his eyes, he sighed calmly and let his senses focus on nothing else but those footsteps. They were like hypnotic tapping, so light and zen. He leaned back slightly, everything else fading into the background. They became amplified as the seconds ticked by, and for a few moments there, Dan forgot it was the sounds of someone walking until all of a sudden, there was a weighted plop and a whispered " _Shit!_ "

Dan jumped slightly, coming back to reality almost too quickly. He glanced over o his left and through the darkness, he could make out someone struggling to bend down and retrieve their things. It was a woman, he noticed. Her right hand, almost her entire arm was trembling quite noticeably. One of her legs looked slack, and her left arm flopped across her thigh rather uselessly. As she was struggling to gather up all the loose papers and notebooks hat had tumbled out of her bag, she eventually dropped the hold on her cane, moaning in distress. Sympathy tugged at his chest and he hopped to his feet and made his way over to where she was. 

"Here," he said without meeting her face. He began carefully plucking her things from off the ground, cradling the notebooks and such with one arm, even brushing some dust and dirt off the covers. She made a high pitched sound from the back of her throat.

"Y-You don't have to-"

"Nono, it's okay," he assured her, lifting the last book off the sidewalk, then grabbed her bag and carefully placed everything inside. He closed the flap of her satchel, slung it over his shoulder, grabbed her black cane, then stood back up and held his hand out to her. The woman hesitated for a second before accepting it. 

She shook a little, even as he used his strength to help her to her feet, until she was up fully. He handed her the cane, which she took gratefully. 

"Thank you so much," she whisped. 

"Of course," he replied. "Here, can you-uh-" he went to hand her the bag, but then second guessed himself gazing down at her fragile form. Her cardigan was sliding down one shoulder and her light hair was slowly falling out of the low bun she'd put it in earlier. In short, it looked as if she'd had a rough day. 

"It's okay, I can take it."

The woman finally raised her chin to meet his eyes, adorning a shy smile on her glossy lips. Mascara was smudged underneath one of her eyes and her cheeks were dusted with a baby pink color. Through her long, Bambi-innocent lashes, he saw her eyes were a light, light brown, almost auburn. She had a little diamond monroe piercing above her lip, which sparkled a bit under the moonlight. Her hair was half-curly and bright, platinum blonde. It was so light, it almost looked like white satin draping over her forehead. She had a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and a small little button nose, upturned ever so slightly. She looked a lot like-

_No! It couldn't be!_

She...She didn't just look like her, it straight up was her! She had the same  _everything!_

The same eyes, nose, cheeks, chin _-the same fucking face_. But...that shouldn't have been possible. She was  _dead_. She had been for three years.  _Three fucking years_. There hadn't been a body, but there had been blood, and lots of it. Images of tonight's scene flashed through Dan's mind, and he couldn't help but think the crime scene a few hours ago couldn't have been much different than the one three years ago. But, there was no doubting it now that he was seeing her up close. 

_It was Lola._

" _What the fuck!?_ " Dan dropped the bag before she could grab it from him. She gasped sharply at his unexpected curse and would have jumped back if half her body wasn't paralyzed, at least from what he could see. A little squeak came from her throat and immediately she was apologizing as if  _she_ were the one being rude right now. 

"I'm sorry!"

"Why are you apologizing!?"

"I-I don't know! You screamed! I assumed it was something I did!"

"It's not something you did! It's  _you!_ "

"Is it the cane!?"

"Why would it be the cane!?"

"I don't know! I'm sorry!"

"Stop apologizing!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Just-!" he held up his unsteady hand, signaling for her to be quiet, just like he used to do when she was a teenager. She obeyed, shutting her mouth instantly. Dan closed his eyes and exhaled deeply through his nose. "I'm sorry," he apologized again, rubbing his temple. "I'm sorry, I must be seeing things, I just need...I-"

"I-Is there something on my face?" She asked a bit quieter than before. 

"No," he said out of instinct. "Yes! But, I-I don't-"

"Mmm!" She whined with a closed mouth. She drew into herself out of nervousness.

"It's not like that," he continued after another exasperated sigh. He opened his eyes back up again, his stare focusing on her. Said stare remained unbroken for a few long, uncomfortable moments. The woman shifted awkwardly. When Lola's face still didn't leave her body, Dan tried blinking, rubbing his hands over his eyes and then re-opening them. He was expecting for her to look totally different this time around, that he was merely projecting his desire to see the girl he loved again onto the first stranger he saw tonight. Possibly his mind's way of trying to cope with what Her Majesty did just hours before. But lo and behold, it was still her, blinking innocently, but sheepishly just like she used to do whenever Dan was harsh on her, almost being her big brother on Phil's behalf. She always managed to win him over with that look, succumbing to it almost immediately. 

 

"What the  _fuck!?_ " He regressed back to his previous self. She squeaked again, taking a shameful expression. Dan shook his head furiously. "I must have hit my head after all!"

Surprised, the woman reeled back.

"Why?"

"Because it  _can't_ be you!" He gestured his hand toward her like it was obvious what he was talking about. Although she clearly still had no idea what to make of this scenario. Although, in all fairness, Dan wouldn't know how to react either if some stranger just started screaming out profanities at him for seemingly no reason.

"Me?" She pointed to herself. 

"Yes, you!" He gestured with a harsher move.

"Um, I-I'm sor-"

"Stop! Stop apologizing!"

"I'm sorry! I can't help it!"

Dan drew in his eyebrows. "What's your name?"

She stuttered for a moment before anxiously blurting out a quick "Lola!"

Dan reeled back as well as if she'd reached a fist up to him. 

"Come again?" He leaned toward her. She fidgeted apprehensively with her free hand. 

"My name is Lola," she said a bit slower. Dan felt a bit bad as she looked like a kid being scolded by a strict parent. 

"Lola?"

"Um, yes."

"As in..." he paused. "Lola Kirijo?" He said her name with a heedful voice, as if afraid of how delicate and frail it was after trying to forget for so long. Lola's face fell, terror waving into her doll-like features. 

"How'd you know that!?"

"How do I-" he stopped himself, then took a step closer. She widened her eyes at his advancement. "Lola, how are you...How are you alive?"

"Huh!?" Her breathing picked up. The rise and fall of her chest became rapid. 

"I thought you were dead. We  _all_ thought you were dead!"

"HUH!?"

"Where have you been all this time!?" He stepped closer so she was forced to crane her neck. This time, however, she had no other expletive to offer. Just a scared gulp. She probably thought he wanted to hurt her, but he'd never. He studied her closer, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. Her face of terror only deepened.

"You're supposed to be dead," Dan muttered almost to himself. 

"I-I can't tell if you're just messing with me or not."

"Why would I..." he trailed off, train of thought speeding away. Then his hands were on either side of her face, cupping gingerly. "It can't be you. That's impossible. But... _it is_."

Her cheeks were cold against him, courtesy of London currently being engulfed in a sealed tank of freezing winter air. Any warmth being repelled away. Those amber eyes remained wide and shimmery, tears splashing in a thin veil beneath her iris's. He stared deep inside them, scourging for any hints of a fallacy, possibly another ugly trick from The cruel Queen. But her image never wavered. This wasn't an illusion, this wasn't a figment of his over active imagination. It was undeniable; uncanny. But it was her. It was Lola, his dear Lola. Did miracles exist after all? Had she been reincarnated as an angel and sent back to Earth? He definitely could have mistaken her for one with her glowing, snowy aura. 

"I don't know what you're talking about-how do you know my name?"

Dan's face fell. Was this just a hallucination after all? "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I mean...who are you?"

The joints in his fingers loosened. "Lola, love...stop with that, you know who I am."

"I do?"

"You you do...! I know it's been a minute, but I haven't changed  _that_ much."

"I wouldn't know, sir. I don't know you!" She'd tried to be firm, but it just came cross as frantic. 

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"You know what! Stop acting like you don't recognize me...where have you been all these years? Did they not kill you like we all thought? Were they keeping you hidden somewhere? Are they after you right now?" His hands stiffened against her again.

She didn't try arguing with him, and he was genuinely expecting for this ludicrous facade to drop. She had to have been lying for whatever reason. But no sings of deceit were anywhere on her.

It couldn't be true, it just couldn't. They've known each other for their entire lives, thee was no way she'd ever forget him. But he could almost always tell when something was off or when she wasn't telling the whole truth. She slow sinking in of the reality that she wasn't lying was burrowing lower and farther like a mole rat. Until it hit him where it hurt the most and when he thought he couldn't cry anymore tonight, his vision was quivering and tears were wading out onto his pores. 

"Please say you remember me."

Nothing.

"It's me, Love, it's me! Dan! Your best friend! The one who was always there when Phil wasn't!"

"Who is Phil?" She spoke even softer. 

Everything inside of Dan collapsed. This had to be another nightmare. Someone was punishing him for not being a man when it counted most.

"Don't tell me you don't remember your own brother."

"I...I don't have a brother. You really must have me confused with someone else."

"No..."

"Sir, I'm sorry."

"No!" Dan cried out. It wasn't fair.

"Sir..." She placed a hand on his arm, attempting to be comforting.

"I won't believe it. It's not true...how can you not remember either of us?"

"I-" She frowned. "I suppose it could have something to do with my-uh-, injury."

His heart fluttered. He was willing to bet this injury had something to do with why she was now walking with a cane as well. 

Interested, he leaned in toward her, waiting for an elaboration. "Injury? What injury?"

Lola fumbled with her thumbs, regret crystal clear on her. 

"A few years ago, I, um, I-I was shot...in the head."

These words pierced through Dan's chest like little poison arrows.

That would certainly explain where the blood had come from, and why she no longer had full use of all her limbs. But that didn't explain why she had remained missing for those three years. Surely she had to have been found if she was able to survive taking a bullet to the brain.

It had to have been because of  _The Yokai_. Dan ground his teeth together.

"By who?"

Lola shook her head. "I don't remember. I try to forget it ever happened anyway. But, have I met you before? Or this-this Phil you speak of? Who did you say he was again?"

He pursed his lips in agitation.

"Phil Lester, that's your brother."

"N-No, that can't be right. My last name is Kirijo."

"Half-brother I should probably say. You two share the same dad."

Lola studied him up and down, gauging if she could believe his words or not.

"But I don't have a dad. At least..."  _'None that I can remember_ '.

Face draining of color, he got closer, personal space suddenly becoming foreign to him. 

"You you do. You had a brother, a dad. And you had me."

"And who were you to me?"

He swallowed hard.

"Your best friend. Dan, Dan Howell. And you were my entire world."

If nothing else caught her attention, this certainly did. But she just shook her head again, though her silent apology appeared to be sincere. 

"I'm so sorry. As horrible as it sounds, I must have forgotten."

He pursed his lips again. He believed it now, he believed this was real-that  _she_ was real. He could see her, hear her, feel her. Her touch was exactly the same as it always had been. Pleasantly cool, a relieving diffusion to the blood often heating up his cheeks. She still looked like a rare porcelain doll, hair too silky and eyes too bright to be real. Yet, somehow, they were. 

"But you  _are_ Lola."

"I am Lola," she confirmed. This much she was confident in. And in some ways, it was all the confirmation he needed. 

Was this his second chance? To do things right? To show her just how much she meant to him? To be a brave man rather than a spineless coward? He didn't believe in god or miracles, but there was no other way of explaining it. His angel had found her way back to him and he had no intention of letting her slip through his fingers this time. Clearly, the universe had taken pity on him, granting him this one wish. He would not let it go to waste. 

Dan picked her bag back up, slinging over his shoulder. He then held his elbow out for her to take .

"Come on, I've got so much to show you."


	7. Chapter 7

Pacing back and forth across his bedroom, Phil's head twitched erratically as distorted thoughts raced through his vision. Thoughts of Dan hanging dead from a rope, thoughts of Dan bleeding all over the place. It felt like someone was sticking needles of cyanide into his heart for how much he was panicking and he couldn't catch his breath no matter how deep he inhaled. 

Dan wasn't here when he got home. He'd immediately called his name upon walking through the front door, eager to feel his best friend's arms hug him tightly and to know that he was safe and sound. The Queen hadn't touched him, he was fine. But a heavy dread set in all of a sudden when Dan didn't answer him.

Because Phil knew that he had a tendency to overthink and over analyze things, he'd simply told himself it was fine. Maybe he'd just gone out for some late night fast food, he'd be back in no time. But when Phil brought out his phone to call him, he was appalled to find Dan's phone was buzz-buzz-buzzing away on the coffee table, sliding across the wood like it was trying to jump off. The LED screen was lit up with Phil's name and just like that, he felt himself slip into an unforgiving state of panic. 

Dan  _never_ left the flat without his phone. Even if he was just going to check the mail, he always brought it with him. It was his security blanket, his only solace away from home. It wasn't like him at all to just leave it here! No, something must have happened, he just knew it! But  _god_ he wanted to be sick! That twisted-that  _demented_ woman had lied to him! She'd finessed Phil into handing her control over his father's empire and he'd agreed to it under the guise of honor because he was terrified of something like  _this_ happening! ' _Stupid_ ,  _stupid_ ,  _stupid!_ ' he'd berated himself. ' _How could I be so STUPID!?_ '.

Maybe they'd taken him as a warning-or as a hostage! Oh god...maybe when Emerson said Dan's life would be on the line, he hadn't meant that they'd leave him alone until he messed up. He'd meant-he'd meant...

"AAHH!"

Phil had thrown his phone at the wall in a blinding moment of rage and stomped up the stairs, for once, not caring if it disturbed the neighbors. He burst through Dan's bedroom door, only to find him not there. 

Torso heaving, he tore back through the hall and ripped open the bathroom door, hoping to find him in there, but to no avail. That was how he found himself back in his own room, hoping maybe Dan was just fumbling around by the sink of something. Or maybe he'd left something of his in there or maybe he was just missing Phil. Finding Dan missing once more had him clutching his knuckles, scratching at his palms. All of this anger turned into energy, and it was bubbling up inside of him, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to go off like a nuclear bomb and destroy everything everything in its path. It was turning his vision red, the thought of anyone laying a hand on virtually the only person he had left filling him to the brim with fury. But it also scared the shit out of him, made him feel like a little boy. The possibility of Dan being in their hands at this very moment was all too real. 

Phil wasn't that dim minded to actually think his sister had killed herself. He'd only said that in the hopes to get rid of Dan's suspicion, or at least get him to understand that even if they could prove it was homicide, it wouldn't make a difference. She was long gone, but god damn, if he wasn't going to hold on to Dan until his fingers snapped off...

He was seriously considering marching back to that cabaret in the fucking cold, seizing that sleaze bag called Emerson by the neck, and demanding they set Dan free. He didn't care if they killed him for such a bold move, all that mattered was Dan. No one else. 

It was only when he heard the front door downstairs open up did he come out of his fury-fueled haze and start to calm down. He snapped his head up and without thinking, sprinted down the hall, down the stairs and nearly falling on his ass with how many steps he skipped. 

"DAN!" He cried, earning a surprised "Phil?" in return. 

He reached the living room to find Dan perfectly unharmed. There were no signs of abuse of any kind on his person, he looked completely fine. Well, save for the bloodshot eyes, a big sign that he'd been crying. Phil's mind immediately went to psychologically torture and without warning, yanked him into a bone-crushing hug that Dan was simply too dazed to return. 

"Christ, Phil! You're shaking! What's gotten into you!"

Without letting go, he replied, "Where have you been!? You weren't here when I got back, I thought something happened to you!"

Dan gently pried him away, looking uncomfortable, like he was hiding something. Suspicion flooded in, mixed with crippling tension. He held Dan's shoulders at arms length. 

"I-I went for a walk, I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I didn't think it would be a big deal."

"How come you didn't bring your phone!?"

"I needed a break from social media-"

"But you're okay!?" His fingers stiffened against his upper arms. 

"Yes, Phil. I'm okay, but-"

"Oh thank  _fucking_ christ!" He yanked Dan into him once more. Dan grunted, seeming all too eager to pull away, which made the raven-haired man frown. 

"Listen, Phil, I need you to take a deep breath and calm yourself, okay?"

"Have you been crying?" Phil ignored him. 

Sighing, Dan said "Y-Yes but that's besides the point-"

"Something happened. What's happened!?"

"Nothing happened, but I-"

"Then why have you been crying?"

"Will you just let me-"

" _They_ didn't get to you-tell me they didn't get to you!"

"Phil, listen!" Dan finally broke, raising his voice. "Breathe, Phil. You need to calm yourself. Can you do that?" 

Huffing, he nodded. His anxiety, slowly depleting. Real life was starting to sink in. Dan was here, Dan was okay. Everything was fine,  _The Yokai_ hadn't gotten to him, it was just a case of him losing his head. "I'm calm, now. I'm calm." He swore.

Dan looked at him, skeptical. "Are you sure, Phil? I really need you to be calm right now."

Alarms were blaring in Phil's head at these words, and he crashed his brows together. Like clockwork, the apprehension was threatening to simmer and boil over. 

"Why?"

Dan pursed his lips.

"Dan, why?" he repeated. When he still didn't say anything, he took a step back and only then noticed a ratty satchel strapped to his shoulder, the handle looking as if it could snap at any moment it was so frail. It certainly wasn't one Dan would carry around, in face, he only carried backpacks, never satchels. So where did that come from? "And where did you get  _that_ thing?"

The brunet boy looked down at the bag, then up at Phil's suspicious gaze. "It's not mine," he started. Phil cocked his head to the side. 

"Then why do you have it?"

He pursed his lips again, searching for an answer. 

"And why are your clothes different, now?"

Dan placed a careful hand on his shoulder. "Look, I really need you to listen carefully and I need you to not lose your shit."

"Why? What happened?"

"Nothing happened, but I-I found-... _oh christ you're so not going to believe me if I telly you this_ -but...Phil, I've found someone, someone very important to us."

His furrowed brows only deepened, as he could't think of a single other person important to them who wasn't already dead, or as good as dead. Unless he meant an ally of some sorts, someone who would help him against  _The Yokai_ , but then, why would  _Dan_ of all people  find someone like that? He wasn't involved in any of this, or at least he wasn't supposed to be. 

"I don't understand," was all he could get out. In truth, there were dozens of questions bouncing around inside his skull, but he couldn't begin to articulate them in a way that would make sense at the moment. 

"Y-Your sister, Phil."

Phil couldn't stand to let him finish that sentence. He immediately pulled away and squinted his eyes shut. Dan had almost said her name, and he was almost certain he would cry if he did. 

"I thought I told you to let that go." He'd lowered his voice dangerously. His defense mechanisms were kicking in, ready to tell him off. Ready to instill in him with all his might that she as dead, that she took her own life. That  _she_ made that choice.  _She_ decided to throw it all away, and if he was looking for someone to blame, then it was  _her_. Because it was easier that way, wasn't it? To pin her murder on something else, so he wouldn't have to face his own cowardice. It was easier to believe it was suicide because that meant she was too weak to face her problems, and it had nothing to do with her big brother's incompetence and juvenile fear of the big, bad scary boogie man who'd already claimed their father. Nothing to do with his fear of basically starting a full on war. 

"I know, I understand," Dan brought him back. "But she's not dead. I was right this whole time, we've got her back!" A wide grin made a home on his lips, one he hadn't seen from him in years. But unfortunately, it was one he could not return. 

"Stop," he ordered. But he persisted. 

"She's okay, she's alive!"

"Don't do this to me!"

"I almost can't believe it, either-"

"Dan, don't do this to me! Just stop! It's not fair! You're being cruel! Please!"

Swallowing, Dan said "I'm not. I'm telling the truth. She's alive, she's  _here_."

"You've gone mental, I can't talk to you right now." Shaking his head, he went to brush past him, but Dan wouldn't let him. He grabbed his arm and held up his index finger. Phil silently pleaded for some kind of salvation. 

"Just please bear with me," Dan begged. 

"I can't go over this with you again-"

Dan opened up the front door, which was already ajar, oddly enough, and looked out to the side. Phil stared, puzzled, as he seemed to be talking to someone. 

"I'm sorry, I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

Someone out of his sight replied, but their voice was too quiet, too soft to hear. He cocked his head again as Dan gently ushered someone inside, a woman. 

A small, blonde woman with a cane clutched in one hand to help her walk. She was stiff as a board, visibly nervous, over sized hoodie sleeves making her seem even smaller. She kept her eyes, those deep, ethereal eyes, looked on Dan as if awaiting instruction. He only smiled tenderly down at her, keeping one hand lightly draped over one of her shoulders. 

Phil's pupils dilated as he looked her head in the face. Everything was going numb, his ears were ringing, hands tingling. 

"No..." He whispered. "No!"

"U-Um," this Lola  _impostor_ stuttered shyly. 

"Hey-"

"You're not real!" He backed away, suddenly horrifically guilty. He pointed an accusatory finger at her, certain she was nothing more than an illusion meant to torment him. Genius move on The Queen's part, but it was unbelievably wicked, nightmare inducing. He knew his dreams tonight would be plagued with images of her bloodied and beaten. A constant reminder that  _he didn't have her when she should have_. 

The impostor hummed uncomfortably and looked to Dan for guidance. They exchanged baffled glances until he met Phil's agonized face. 

"This isn't a trick," he tried to assure him. 

"Bullshit!" He screamed, making the impostor jump. He caught her eye, and murder seeped into his veins. He growled a predatory growl. "You are  _not_ my sister." A step closer. " _Get out!_ "

"Phil!" Dan stepped in between them, afraid he'd do something they would both regret. "It's not a trick! That's your sister! That's Lola!"

"Do not say her name!"

"Look at her! She's real! She's not a doppelganger! She's _real!_ "

Shoving him aside, Phil got into the impostor's face, making her back away. Although he was never one for physical confrontation, especially with someone much more petite that him, he couldn't believe that this wasn't some kind of trap, as impossible as it seemed. It wasn't her, it was simply too good to be true. The universe simply wasn't that kind. 

With this in mind, he got closer, forcing her back, her lower back pressing into the counter. She wobbled slightly and instinctively reached a hand out behind herself to prevent losing her balance. With all the hate in the world, Phil snarled with bored teeth. 

" _You are not my sister, you despicable little wretch of a thing. How dare you come into my home and uproot everything like this! You're not Lola! You will never be Lola!_ "

The impostor gulped silently, not having the courage to argue with him. He felt Dan's hand on him, attempting to pry him away, calling his name out desperately. But he simply barked at him to back off. He drowned his voice out without thinking about it and endlessly glowered down at her. Her dinner plate eyes, her quivering lip. 

" _Tell me who you are!_ "

She jumped again, a squeak escaping her throat. She opened her mouth a few times, looking to say something. But every time she tried, the sentence would instantly fall apart into shambled, too scared to do anything to defend herself. His murderous scowl kept her locked in place and the way his chest rose and fell, huffing wildly, made him seem like a deranged wolf. 

" _Answer me._ "

She took in an airy gasp, voice wavering. She struggled to push the words out. 

"M-My name is Lola-"

"No! I said tell me who you are!"

"That is who I am!" She shot back with a shrill voice. He was momentarily stunned that she'd bitten back, but she quickly retreated back into herself and rubbed her arm self-consciously. "I don't know what you want me to say..."

"That's not possible," he deadpanned. "Tell me the truth."

She remained silent, unsure of what to say. Dan watched with caution, hand still poised and ready to intervene if things got out of hand. Although it seemed he was calming down somewhat. 

"I don't know what to tell you, then." The impostor paused and briefly glanced at Dan. "I don't know what either of you want from me." She looked as if she were about to cry. "I-I don't know why you brought me here, and I don't know why either of you would think I'm your sister." She averted her eyes over to a seething Phil. 

His face fell at this, ultimate confusion making way. The fact that she was claiming to be Lola but claiming to not know either of them was making his mind run in circles like a dog chasing its tail. Her genuine lack of knowledge and recognition combined with that she looked  _exactly like Lola_. She even had that little diamond stud above her lip, the one she'd gotten when she was seventeen to spite him, to disobey him. Only to laugh about it later as he'd actually grown to like it once the anger had cleared away. 

Kind of like it was doing right now. But then, all of a sudden, a hot flash of rage washed through him and before he could stop himself, he had a hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing but not enough to suffocate. 

"PHIL!"

"TELL ME WHO YOU ARE!"

The impostor shrieked at the top of her lungs and reached her own hands to try and pry his away. At the same time, Dan dug his fingers into his shoulder and tugged with all his might. 

"PHIL, STOP IT!"

"TELL ME!" Phil shook her by the neck, rattling her hair. "TELL ME!"

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME!" She cried. 

"TELL ME!" He screamed in her face. 

"PHIL-" Dan was tugging harder and harder, ready to take action as things grew more and more intense. But just as quickly, Phil's vexed front had collapsed as he dissipated into hysterical sobs. His grip around her fell, his eyes shut in an attempt to keep the tears at bay despite being aware it was no use. Lola gasped when his knees caved in on themselves and he let himself fall onto them in front of her. His arms coiled around her torso, hugging her tightly, his cheek pressing against her stomach. She stiffened under his touch. Even Dan was at a loss for what to do. 

"I'm sorry," it came out as a harsh whisper. Lola looked up at Dan with wide eyes. She mouthed a 'help', and it was only then that Dan remembered she didn't recall either of the boys. This may have been an emotional night for them to say the least. But to her, they were just strangers. 

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"I-uh-it's okay I guess?"

"I was such a coward, I didn't save you when I could've! I'm going to hell, I don't deserve heaven after what I failed to do and I'm sorry!"

Lola's breathing picked up. "D-Dan? What's he on about?"

"Is this a sign from an angel? Are you an angel? Have you given me another chance? Oh-I promise you I won't let you down this time! I won't let anything happen to you! I'll protect you with everything I have!"

"Can someone please clue me in here?"

Dan piped in. "Okay, I think you're scaring her, please get up!"

It seemed he hadn't heard a word he said, for his apologies and hasty promises never ceased. If anything, his grip only got tighter. Lola was too awkward to try and peel him off herself, so she resorted to lightly patting the top of his head. He seemed to cry even harder at this. 

"Uh-there there?"

Dan grabbed onto his torso and attempted to lift him up, but he was practically dead weight; his knees were cemented to the stop. 

"Come on!" he grunted as Phil gasped continuously. Lola flinched at his flexing fingers, like he was trying to gather all of her into his palms, to keep her in his pocket forever. 

"What do I do!?"

"I'm trying to get him to-oh god!"

"What!?"

"I think he's passing out!"

"Well then move!" Lola shrieked as all of a sudden, Phil's hands went slack and he slumped backwards, eyes lolling back so that it looked like he had no pupils. Dan yelped, hopping out of the way just before he fell, lancing with a thud against the carpet. Lola froze with her fists pressed to her clavicle, eyes taking up practically half of her face. Dan's reaction wasn't much different as he peered down at his unconscious friend, not knowing what to do. He then gazed up at a terrified Lola, who didn't look too far away from passing out herself. 

Gulping, Dan said, "W-Welcome home?" 


	8. Chapter 8

~~~~

**Hey! So I apologize for the belated update, and I also apologize because there won't be another for about another week or so. The reason for that, is because in about 6 hours here, I'll be on a flight to Europe. Yep! That's right, I'll be flying all the way out to London, then later, Ireland. I'll be back fairly soon, but in the meantime, enjoy :)**  

~~~~~

  
_"We really did a number on that boy, didn't we?"_

_"Such a shame it was all for nothing."_

_"Ah ah ah, careful Sebastian. I think it's still a sore wound for our queen, here."_

_"Oh how ignorant I've been, haha. My apologies, your majesty."_

_"..."_

_"Her majesty doesn't seem to be too talkative tonight."_

_"I don't blame you, mistress. Those little vermins wasted your valuable time, and not to mention, were unnecessarily cruel."_

_"And potentially damaging to our newfound alliance with the Lesters."_

_"I think we paid that boy a good amount to keep quiet."_

_"Do you think it'll be enough, Emerson?"_

_"Of course it will be. If not, all that means is that we'll have to pull another little magic trick to keep everyone under control. I'm sure you have no shortage of those, your majesty."_

~~~~~

 

"Is he still breathing?"

 

"Of course he's still breathing! He's just a bit, ehm, faint of heart at times."

 

"Sorry, I don't exactly know what to think when a strange man asks if I'm an angel and then proceeds to pass out for no reason!"

 

"He's not a stranger!"

 

"He is to me!"

 

"And he didn't pass out for _no reason!_ He just found out his sister is still alive, that would be a major shock to anyone!"

 

"I'm not his sister!"

 

"Oh how would you know, you don't even remember who shot you!"

 

"I think I would at least-"

 

"SH! He's waking up!"

 

Phil blinked his eyes open and peered up at the two figures looming above him, both sat on their haunches. One of them was his best friend and one of them was his sister, who's been dead for the past three years. He stared blank-faced at the little blonde woman, willing her to morph into someone else. Watching, waiting. But she never did, and he knew than that she was actually his sister, and he wasn't being played for a fool. This wasn't a dream, this was real life. And as impossible as it seemed, his baby sister was back, Dan had been right all along. She wasn't dead, she was just hidden. Her corpse was never found, and he'd always just assumed the worst...

 

But here she was, alive and well. Her ivory flesh was free of any scars or bruises, it looked as if she hadn't aged a single day since she went missing, whereas Phil felt like he'd aged forty years. He'd even found a few gray hairs recently, all of which he plucked out in the hopes of them staying gone. But she was just as beautiful and radiant as he remembered. She was flawless, with that same twinkle of naivety on her face. Even now, after going through god knows what, innocence prevailed. Even as a twenty three year old, the world hadn't yet corrupted her wholesome heart. She was still the same little Lola everyone knew and loved. If only Jack could see her, now. If only he could see that at least one of his children still had a pure mind. That was all he ever wanted for them, to live carefree lives. To live, to laugh, to love without the burden of running an entire kingdom of criminals and kingpins. If he ever awoke, he could take comfort in knowing that at least one of his kids remained unscathed. 

 

Phil sat up, using his hands for support and never taking his eyes off his sister. His heart fluttered as she batted her lashes down at him, confusion evident on her face. His vision was blurring over once again and without thinking, he grabbed Lola, pulling her down against him and enveloping his arms protectively around her. Having her cradled against his torso for the first time since she was a teen allowed him to take a much needed breath of fresh air. 

 

It wold have been better if she'd hugged him back, but he didn't want to focus on that right now. This right here, this was enough. Even Dan was smiling sweetly at the sight. Inhaling deeply, Phil hummed as she still smelled of that strawberry shampoo she'd been using ever since middle school. He still struggled to grasp how any of this could be real. 

 

"O-Okay," Lola finally spoke, sounding unsure of herself. "I really hate to put a damper on this-whatever this is. But I'm about to lose it right now." She said, pulling away from him. Both of the boys gazed at her quizzically. 

 

"But, why...?" Phil asked, softly. 

 

Lola's eyes were about ready to bulge out of her skull. "I don't know you people!"

 

Phil's heart dropped, but Dan only sighed. He frowned. 

 

"Is this a joke, or..."

 

"No," Dan answered for her. "She told me the same thing before we got here." 

 

"I'd still like to know _why_ you brought me here." She tried her best to remain decorous, but her chagrin was starting to poke through anyway. Phil looked to Dan for guidance, because he sure as hell didn't know what to do. How does one go about handling their amnesiac sister who was thought to be dead all this time? 

 

Dan hopped to his feet with renewed energy. "Where's your phone?" 

 

"Over there," he pointed over to where he'd chucked it at the wall. Ignoring the fact that it lay abandoned on the floor, he picked it up, undid the lock screen and began scrolling through something. Addled, Phil and Lola exchanged curious glances. 

 

"Uh, Dan, do you really think _now_ is the time to scroll through Twitter?" 

 

Without looking up, he answered,  "I'm not scrolling through Twitter, I'm scrolling through Instagram."

 

_"Do you really think now is the time to be scrolling through Instagram?"_

 

"Just bare with me, please." Dan then ambled back over to where Lola sat on her knees, still half-hovering over Phil. He knelt beside her and practically shoved the phone into her face. She recoiled slightly. 

 

"Why are you giving me this?" She refused to take it at first, but he only shoved it closer. She reluctantly took if from his hand, merely glancing at the screen. "What am I looking- _what the fuck_."

 

"What is he-" Phil leaned over to see what he was showing her. He nearly had to do a double take as a little icon of Lola's close-eyed smile greeted him. It was Lola's old Instagram page, which hadn't been active in years, obviously. 

 

"Is that...is that _me_?"

 

" _heylolitahey_ , yes. That's you. You created that account when you were sixteen years old. Take a look." 

 

She hesitated for a few seconds before tapping on one of the first photos available, and one of the last to be uploaded. It was a candid shot of her and a leggy brunette. Lola was laughing with heaven in her eyes as the brunette cradled her waist with one arm. She tilted her head as she stared at it. She then looked back up at the boys. 

 

"Who is that?"

 

Neither of them wanted to answer, but Dan took the initiative anyway. 

 

"That's Naomi." 

 

She shook her head. "I don't remember being friends with someone named Naomi." 

 

"She wasn't your friend, she was your-" he choked on air for a second, almost tempted to lie to her. But the truth always had a way of being found out, and his good conscious took over before he had a chance to. "She was your wife."

 

"My what!?" Lola nearly dropped the phone into her lap. "That can't be true! I'm barely 23! Not to mention straight! I think..."

 

"The proof is right there, look at your hands."

 

She brought a hand up to her face while giving him an incredulous look. Dan sighed. "In the picture, Lo."

 

Trying to hide her reddening face, she went back to examining the photo. She zoomed in on her left hand, and sure enough, there was a diamond wedding band that sparkled brilliantly in the fluorescent lights of the pub in which they were stood in. The boys watched as she became engrossed with this old account, studying every photo of her and Naomi. Photos of Lola kissing her cheek, of the two outside, covered in snow...What truly baffled her was how they looked at each other like they were each other's entire world. Even through a secondhand medium, it was clear just how in love those two women were. Even more so when she found a photo of the two standing at what looked to be an alter. It looked as if it was very late at night, heavenly fairy lights shown down on them, and a middle-aged minister smiled peacefully as they locked lips in front of him. Lola was in a simple red dress, certainly not one meant for a bride. But it was gorgeous all the same. Naomi on the other hand, was in a white blouse and a black pleated skirt. Underneath, the caption read, _"Two years of being married to the best woman I've ever met, I love you so much baby!"_  

 

Something nipped at her heart and for a hot second, she thought she was going to cry. But she blinked the tears away and looked back at the boys. Dan smiled as she was beginning to believe him. How could she not? The evidence was right there in front of her face. 

 

"Where is she now? Did we...did we divorce?" 

 

The boys exchanged pained expressions. Once again, Dan had to be the one to speak, as Phil's throat was closing up at the memories. Though he wasn't there in her final moments before she went missing, he could only imagine. From what Dan had told him in the past, he could only imagine just how crazy she went. 

 

"No. She..." Oh god, did he tel her the complete truth? Or did he just tell her the abridged version of it? 

 

Dan chose the latter. 

 

"She's dead."

 

She froze with a deep frown. Knowing this placed a solemn filter over every picture of them together. Dropping Phil's phone, she ran a hand through her hair. A low groan emitted from her chest. "Fucking hell, what-do I have a son I don't know about, too!?"

 

"Not that I'm aware!" Phil finally chimed in, weariness stitched into his tone. Ignoring his comment, Dan continued. 

 

"You and Naomi eloped on the night of your eighteenth birthday." A snort from Phil. "You were married for two years before she was found dead. You went missing right afterwards, but you were never found." _'until now'_.

 

"But that doesn't-I don't..."

 

"I was the last person who saw you before, well."

 

"I still don't get it. You guys know so much more than I do. Do I wanna know who shot me?"

 

The raven haired man hissed like he was in pain. This turned her attention over to him, curiosity and suspicion growing all at once. "You know something, don't you!?"She narrowed her eyes at him. He fidgeted under her stare, like a guilty little kid caught stealing from the cookie jar. He waited for a few seconds, hoping Dan would save him from telling the harsh truth again, but even he looked at him expectantly. A fist squeezed and twisted his heart inside, and he swallowed back his cowardly nature. He then braced himself for what he was about to say. As much as he wanted to lie, he knew Dan wouldn't let him. 

 

"What's the last thing you remember?"

 

Lola struggled to form a thought. Staring at her hands, she muttered, "It's not much, but...there was a lot of white."

 

"Like a hospital?"

 

She shook her head again, for the thousandth time. "I don't know. I guess it may have been. But I don't remember there being any doctors or nurses."

 

"Do you remember who _was_ there?" 

 

"Not really. At least, no one specific. I can maybe recall a guy in suspenders but I was a little too busy trying to get the fuck out to pay too much attention."

 

"Why were you-were you in danger?"

 

"I mean, I was shot in the fucking head." 

 

' _Emerson_ ', Phil thought, contempt swimming through his veins like a vicious drug. It was Emerson, there was no doubt about it. He couldn't think of anyone else working for The Queen who wore suspenders. 

 

He ground his teeth so hard, they might have chipped off in places. It made him want to be fucking sick to think he would be forced to work with the despicable man who's tried to kill his little sister. That sick and cocky son of a bitch sat across from him, looked him _dead_ in the eye, conversed in a civil manner with him, even showed him hospitality; all the while, he _knew_. He fucking _knew_ what he did to Lola, what _The Queen_ did to Lola. It took a special kind of heartless asshole to conduct business with a man whose baby sister you'd shot. Although it wouldn't be shocking to hear if he'd forgotten. That man had killed more people than he cold count, but that just made Phil's anger all the more tangible. 

 

It all made sense, now, her amnesia that is. And it made his heart coil in on itself, thinking of all those lost memories, all those lose loves. And he had little hope that any of them would be restored. A little voice in the back of his head couldn't help but as if t was really still Lola without all of those memories. But he bordered that voice back down and placed a hand on her knee. 

 

"Have they been after you ever since?" He had to ask. She shrugged. 

 

"If they are, then I guess I've done a good job of hiding because no one's come looking for me yet."

 

_'Yet'_ , the word echoed in his head. 

 

"Here," Dan handed the phone back to her, this time with a photo of her lovingly using his lap as a resting place, his fingers burrowed against her scalp. Lola looked considerably younger in this picture, her face a little more round, her hair a little darker. With furrowed brows, she scrolled through again until she found a picture of her and Phil eating sushi together. Rice was falling from his over stuffed cheeks and Lola was red in the face with laughter. 

 

"That's...you." She whispered. Phil nodded. He then rose to his feet. 

 

"Wait here." 

 

Lola let her gaze trail after his feet until he was out of sight. Blinking, she listed her head when his audible grunts and curses bled out into the room.  When he came back out, a couple of strands of black hair hung over his eyes and his shirt was a bit more ruffled. He plopped back down across from her, carrying a photo album in his lap. 

 

He splayed it out along the carpet, and Lola was bombarded with even more photos, this time, mainly consisting of blood relatives. The first few showed a young boy with a fringe cut holding a small child against him. It was Phil, of course. And as she flipped through the album, she almost found herself smiling as she saw him hugging the child protectively like he was her dad. Sometimes she was in his lap, sometimes she was dancing on his feet. Sometimes he was kissing her cheek, and sometimes she was slumbering away in a cradle that was his arm. Every so often, there would be another man in the pictures wit them who looked quite a bit older. With a bit of a more muscular build and a little more definition to the lines on his face. With black hair, like Phil, he looked like a middle aged version of him. When she came across a group photo of both him, Phil, the blonde child (presumably herself) and a semi-older woman with auburn hair, she frowned. Lola had a feeling she knew the answer already, but she had to ask. 

 

"Who are they?"

 

"Those are your parents." He pointed to the man. "Our father," he pointed to the woman. "Your mother."

 

She did look like Lola. She looked _a lot_ like Lola. Really, the only difference between the two was their hair color. A dull longing began inside of her, a desire to get to know them again as opposed to missing them. Once again, she had a feeling she knew the answer already to the question she was going to ask. 

 

"Where are they?"

 

Phil put his hand back on her knee, something he did a lot ever since she was an infant as a way of comfort. More so to himself more than anything. Lola almost never needed someone to comfort her, or if she did, she hid it well. Phil, rather, took solace in her touch. An assurance that she was, indeed, safe for the moment at least. It was still unbelievable, to think she was back after all this time. 

 

"Our father, Jack, has been comatose in the hospital for about six years, now." He started. Lola flinched back at this, but restrained from saying anything until she knew for sure he was done. "Aki, your mother...jumped off a bridge when you were fourteen."

 

"So she killed herself?" 

 

Dan shot Phil a knowing look, which he ignored and nodded solemnly at Lola. Her shoulders slumped noticeably. 

 

"So they're both dead, basically."

 

"I-" he wanted to correct her, tell her Jack was still breathing, that his heart was still beating. But it _had_ been six years, and everyone was losing hope that he'd ever wake up. It was a pipe dream at this point. "In a way, I suppose." He conceded. Lola sighed. 

 

"Was it even worth it, then?" She said under her breath. 

 

"Was what worth it?" Dan spoke this time. 

 

"Coming back, I guess." She shrugged. "From what you've been showing me, it seems our entire family is in shambles."

 

Phil's spirit deflated at those words, mainly because he knew she wasn't wrong. Their entire family _had_ been in shambles. With two dead parents, essentially, no extended relatives and an estranged relationship with her older brother. In fact, after getting married to Naomi when she was eighteen, she'd stopped talking to him altogether. The only times he could see her were when she would post online, or maybe he'd tag alongside Dan when he would meet up with her for coffee. But he's sure she would have disowned him completely if she could. This was perhaps the only silver lining to her not having any memory. And he silently chastised himself for thinking such a thing, but what's done _is_ done. No one could turn back the hands of time and make things better now, and he certainly couldn't get all of those lost years back again. But god fucking dammit, if he wasn't going to make the most out of every second with her from here on forward. 

 

"Not entirely," he looked her dead in the eye. "You still have me, and I won't let anything happen to you ever again." 


	9. Chapter 9

Seeing Lola alive and well tonight just made Phil's mind implode in on itself, but at the same time, a giant puddle of relief made a home in his ransacked head as well. His stomach felt a little less sick at the thought of working alongside _The Yokai_ when he knew they had failed to pick of one of the last of the Lesters other than himself. They had clearly set out to kill her once all those years ago for reasons never known. They succeeded in permanently incapacitating Jack and steering fools into the belief that Lola's mom was taken by suicide. But they hadn't taken away his baby sister, and they never would. Not while he was around. 

Laying dormant in the darkness splashed bedroom, Phil thought of all the different ways he could take out unsuspecting foes who ever intended her harm. A sense of duty and honor stitched themselves behind his eyelids. Jack wasn't here to protect her. Lola basically had to grow up without him, without a father. And it wasn't fair, he knew it wasn't fair. She already suffered the loss of one parent at the tender age of fourteen, but to lose her dad only three years later...so quickly, as well. It's like she didn't have enough time to mourn for one before the other one was taken away, too. Phil couldn't decide which was worse, losing his father, or Lola's response to losing him. 

He remembered her sobbing for days alongside with him, and he remembered feeling like a terribly selfish man when he relished in her burrowing her face into his broad chest. For once, seeking comfort in _him_ rather than that other woman who took up so much of her time. In a way, it was the only time in which she'd willingly bonded with him. It was the only time she would allow him to hug her without putting up a fight. Hell, she would even _reciprocate_ at times. And he couldn't have asked for anything better. Well, until tonight of course. 

If he could have, he would have held on to her all night, even if he was snoring away. To have the assurance even in his sleep that she wasn't an illusion, that she wasn't just a crippled version of a mockery of his sister. Not a hallucination or a trick somehow played by the despicable wretch of a queen, if one could even call her that. To be truthful, she was less of a queen and more of a kingpin totalitarian dictator who ruled with an iron fist. A devil who collected her power through murder and manipulation, not through cohesive arguments and a positive political influence. He felt wrong to be calling her a queen, but if she was a queen, she was a disgustingly cruel one. Governing with no consent, completely violating Roussea's revolutionary ideas running this society. _Did_ run their society. But that woman tainted his land and now, people were afraid to walk around unarmed. 

She'd blackened this once pure white country. She'd corrupted his home. And for that, her corpse deserved to be desecrated, defiled. But at least she had one less sin worthy of damnation. Because Lola was alive. Although if you were to ask him, it was still a great crime in spirit, for she'd meant for that poor girl's demise. But because god took mercy, failure crashed into her shoulders. Whether or not she noticed was questionable, but at least he had something over her. But again, whether it would affect her at all was uncertain. 

No matter what anyone did, she always found a way to strip someone of their power, have her way with their free will. That no-faced demon was a plague over humans. A manifestation of everything hellish contained into a single entity. 

_But at least he had this._

He would not let anyone take this from him. He'd give his very life if he had to. Doing this at least one less missing piece in Jack's fabricated pride for his son. Another small addition to his skeletal ago. He'd failed at a lot of things, but this he would not. 

He lamented her loss, but he smiled as she'd returned home. She'd returned to her nest. Granted, she'd no recollection of her family, and each type of limb were lagging permanently because of her grave injury, half of her identity in all senses were cast into oblivion. But among those missing ideas and fragments of herself was her tangible disdain toward her own brother. And as selfish as it was, Phil was thankful for that. He now had a chance to rebuild their relationship from scratch. But better this time. He'd add another sturdy layer to ensure its statuesque nature. 

Hopefully this time, she would love him almost as much as he loved her. 

He hugged his Totoro plushie against his chest, pretending it was her. But he couldn't be too upset when she'd opted to return home for the night instead of taking up on his offer for her to stay. She did agree to take both of the boys' contact information and vice versa. She'd also promised to text them soon the next morning so they could schedule a long meet-up, perhaps over coffee. And Phil had wanted to drive her home himself, but tonight was just his meeting with The evil Queen's bishop, there was no way he'd returned home sober. So Dan did the job, although he likely would have volunteered anyway, and it would have irritated Phil. His whole relationship with her had irritated him. But he knew he'd have his chance to make things right with her. There was no harm in letting Dan have his rightful reserved spot. 

Tomorrow, he would tell her everything. Tomorrow, he'd pour an abundance of sorry's and atonements into her mug. His apology infused sugar would invade her system and things would be white instead of red between them. 

Phil fluttered his eyes shut, fatherly instincts in place of Jack's seeping through his veins. 

He silently promised both to her and to himself that he would protect her. He wouldn't be a coward this time around. 

~~~~~

Lola sat alone in her empty flat, down on the floor with her back against the cabinets. A lukewarm bottle of Jameson sat, cradled against her calves. The slight burn in its trail throbbed in the back of her throat, but it was nothing compared to the comprehension struggling to stay afloat in the ocean composed of all her questions and doubts. Nothing could quell or prepare her for the revelations she'd received today. Nothing could make her understand all of what she'd learned, how everything had derailed in such little time. 

Two hours ago, she was a recent university graduate who'd gotten tangled up in a deceitful arachnids web and was now left defective years later. The cane laid out next to her pale thigh was a constant reminder of her weaknesses. Her impairments impossible to forget when it felt like a malicious little pixie was whispering it into her ear, the words echoing and bouncing around in her fogged up head. 

Her gait nowadays was flimsy and awkward. She couldn't carry anything with much weight and she was a nuisance on crowded public transits. People were annoyed by her slowness, yet her _scars_ made them soften their eyes in pity as well. She'd much rather have them snap at her for her slowness, or better yet, not acknowledge her at all. 

Two hours ago, that had been her only tribulation. These injuries, stranger's reactions to them. But now, she was struggling to comprehend who she was before she was shot. Who her family was, all of those who had probably been missing her for years. 

But it made her startle when she realized how little thought she gave to her parents. Anything about them, really. But they just never popped up in her brain. Because, well, she never remembered them at all. She didn't know if she should be ashamed of that at all. But she had parents, a dead mom and a half-dead dad. And a brother, who looked remarkably like Jack and nothing like Aki. They were _half_ siblings, but that small detail didn't make a difference to her. 

She had a _brother_ , and if nobody had ever told her, she would never even have the thought cross her mind, for they also looked nothing alike. He was tall, lanky, pudgy, yet toned in places, with inky black hair and oceanic pupils. He had a sharply angled, yet round chin and easily towered over a foot above her. While she on the other hand, was _very_ small with a _very_ petite build, hair so blonde, it was nearly the color of snow, and her skin wasn't much lighter. Lighter than Phil's even. It almost made her looked dead, which was morbidly appropriate as apparently she was supposed to be. And her eyes, while once appearing much darker, were almost a transparent auburn color, so light brown that it almost appeared red. In fact, if it caught the light in the right way, specks of dust of it almost floated inside of them like dust in the sun, flooding in a sea of stilled honey. It was almost inhuman, but she just figured, maybe it was some sort of birth defect. 

But if those physical attributes weren't radically different enough, then her wide, oriental orbs definitely were. She was whiter than Phil was, yet so clearly of a separate ethnicity entirely. 

But it didn't change a thing. 

And Dan, he'd claimed they were best friends. Although the way he spoke had her wondering if they'd been more. But then...that wasn't right, was it? Because she'd married someone else. She'd married another _woman_. 

Seeing as how she'd always thought she was straight, she wouldn't have believed a word they said. She would have believed instead that they were just bored losers looking to muddle a poor girl's mind tonight. Take advantage of her...but there had been pictures, solid proof that they hadn't been lying to her. She really did have a whole other life she couldn't remember. 

She wished she could recall all of those moments with her brother, her best friend, her _wife_. All those nights undoubtedly entangled in thin sheets together. All those stolen kisses, promises of devotion...

And it was like none of it had ever happened. 

She raised the half empty bottle back up to her flushed lips. 

How the fuck was she supposed to handle all of this new information?

Wincing at the painful taste, Lola ran a shaky hand through her hair. 

She was going to have to talk to Phil and Dan again as soon as she could. She needed to know more, she needed to know what had become of her wife, why the people who'd tried killing her had such a vendetta against her family. What her place in all of this muck was, if it had anything to do with her attempted murder. 

Had she herself done something to warrant such a brazen retaliation? Had she deserved it? Did Naomi, her wife, have anything to do with it? 

Lola still had no idea what to make of this situation, that she'd wed another woman. At first, she'd recoiled away from the thought of being intimate with someone of the same sex. Not because she held any contempt for such a thing, but because it just didn't interest her. But when she really thought about it, closed her eyes and envisioned it...female hands running over her tingling skin, female lips pressing kisses to her neck, female eyes pinning her down, making her feel just as good as a man could. It suddenly didn't seem that unappealing. 

She wished she had a voice to match it to Naomi's diamond-like eyes, her pale brown hair, those plump, glossy lips. She could almost feel herself falling in love with her all over again, but there was also a bitter reminder in her chest every few minutes that Naomi was long gone. Maybe not all of the love from before had died when a bullet drilled into her brain. Both love, and grief. That must mean it was real, then. 

But then, her imagination was going rogue and she was picturing Dan this time, instead of Naomi. She pictured his slightly frizzled curls brushing across her skin, seating herself across his lap, his soft thighs. A man. 

It intrigued, enticed her just as much as a woman. 

God! What did all of this mean? Why was she having so much trouble understanding herself!?

Lola almost wished she'd never run into Dan, because them, she'd still be sure of what little she knew of her own life. But then, she could already feel the strings of connection thickening between her and the boys. That had to be a sign, it just _had_ to be. 

Taking another swig of the Jameson, she slammed the back of her head against the cabinet and groaned. 

~~~~~

Emerson Barrett leaned back leisurely against the settee, arms crossed behind his head,eyes drooped over lazily. A knowing smirk graced his lips and he brought a hand softly down upon a pair of heeled boots that rested in his lap. Connected to them, were a pair of pasty white legs, a stomach, and a stone cold woman decorated in the finest of silver jewelry. She sterling silver, white gold, and diamond sparkled in the warm light from the chandelier above. A slender arm shielded her eyes, a pair of crimson red lips puckered in elegant contempt. Her other arm dangled over the side of the settee, a glass of scotch dangling carelessly in her lax fingers. 

With his hand ghosting over her bare ankles, Emerson smiled down at The Queen, who'd since shed her calculating and stoic front. 

"I am sorry, once again, My Queen, for the trouble those incompetent men have put you through." His eyes gazed over all the blood leftover, staining her hair, her jewels, her clothes, her skin. She color of it matched the pigment of her lips, making it look like she'd drank a pint of the stuff. It made her look terrifying, but also regal and gorgeous. Like a stealthy succubus, thinking ten steps ahead before taking one. Although she offered no visible reply to her favored pawn's apology on behalf of those wretched, disobedient man. Didn't even move her arm from over her eyes, no doubt, staining her porcelain exterior with spotty mascara. 

Emerson's dark eye snagged upon a glint from one of her many diamonds, and he didn't seem bothered in the slightest at her silence. In fact, he was quite used to it as well as well aware that she needn't say a single word for him to understand her. The Queen was a woman of few words, and instead, let her actions speak for her. They were more effective anyway. Letting people know that empty promises were not part of her vocabulary. Vacant threats did not exist around her. If she condemned a man to death, no amount of pleading or bribery could save his life. On the other side of the coin, if she promised a man reward, she would deliver in abundance. 

Indeed, alongside fear, many folks held a great deal of respect for her as well. Because while she was merciless and brooding, cunning and manipulative, she was also extremely punctual, and dare one say, diplomatic. In a lot of ways, the poor people of England brought this terror upon themselves, for The Queen only reacted in retaliation. She never cast the first stone, threw the first punch. The Queen didn't start fights. She ended them. 

There wasn't a day that passed in which Emerson wasn't extremely grateful for the position she'd claimed for him. Hell, he was almost just as feared as she was. Emerson was almost like her very own offspring, and just as Shiva was a mere extension of Brahma, Emerson was merely an extension of his mistress. And no one would dare cast a veil of disrespect over his face. The first and only time someone tried such an idiotic thing, the man had been strung up along the nose of Big Ben, half of his flesh having been peeled from his body, for all of Westminster to see. 

Investigators couldn't understand how such a thing was done, and it must have taken at least a day for the corpse to resign from its position as a cinnabar red ornament. That foul mouthed man had been made an example of. And from that day forward, no one even so much as scowled as Her Majesty's most loyal bishop. 

Yes, Emerson's gratitude was not scarce by any means. He made sure to express it one way or another, and he would strike down anyone who dared undermine her authority. He would chop off their feet himself so they could only ever kneel in her presence. 

Emerson was perhaps the only one of her crafty thaumaturges who had free feign to act according to how he thought she would. Issue commands, take her place in meetings such as the one with the blithering Phillip Lester as The Queen not only wished to maintain her anonymity, but she also had plenty of work requiring fast completion behind closed doors. And besides, people were most afraid of those they cannot see, anyway. 

Emerson ran his calloused fingers over her marble flesh, grinning at the icy tingles shooting up his arm. 

He was also the only one free to put his hands on her whenever he liked without having them dunked in acid. It was a privilege he never took for granted. 

"At least you can take solace in the reassurance that an alliance between us and the Lesters have been successfully forged. Now, you've got one less bad seed on your plate. He even agreed to all of the conditions you've laid out for him without argument. My, what an agreeable fellow that man is. Shame such a benevolent quality just might be the death of him." 

He felt The Queen's leg tense over his lap, though he resumed in his leisurely stroking. 

"Forgive me, for speaking so brazenly," he waited for her objection, but she gave none. "But I have a hunch that man won't be too difficult to tame. I almost fear he may too soft for this sort of business. Poor boy nearly fainted at the mere suggestion of a nightly companion." 

"A whore, you mean." 

" _Her majesty did not permit you to speak! Did she!_ " Emerson snapped, voice turning momentarily demonic. He'd been so wrapped up in this one sided conversation, he'd completely forgotten of his brother and colleague, Sebastian, with his sharply sculpted cheeks and carefully styled dark hair that acted as a curtain over the windows that were his eyes. Sebastian shrank back against the half-transparent wall, hands folded neatly in front of him. 

"My apologies. My intention was not to offend." 

He spoke quite submissively, although there was a little glimmer of resentment in his eyes, like he held unspoken words of blasphemy. 

The Queen brushed his minuscule offense away with the wave of her hand. She clearly didn't care much for anyone speaking out of turn, at least, not at the moment. Emerson frowned, noting her exhaustion and knowing her lenience was only due to her weighted fatigue. 

"If I may...?" Sebastian tested with a careful voice. 

"If her Majesty permits it." Emerson looked down at his sleep-deprived mistress. She still didn't give a verbal reply, only an 'ok' symbol with her hand, somehow still keeping hold of her depleting glass. 

"You may," he answered for her. Noting her twitching fingers, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and brandished a small, reflective gold box with the word _Treasurer_ embedded in light gold cursive lettering. Popping the box open, he pulled out one of the many cigarettes, the paper shimmering like amber colored crystals in the light. "Would you care for a smoke, My Queen?"

She stiffened for a moment, considering his offer until she began hoisting herself up into a sitting position. Emerson was quick to usher her back down, mumbling about how she needn't exert herself anymore. Without complaint, she let his weather worn hands nudge her back. Her head collapsed back onto a lush, velvet red cushion. Emerson leaned over her body, planting the gold plated cigarette right between those blood red lips and hovering a lighter over it as well. 

The Queen sighed deeply and even after the cigarette had caught fire, Emerson lingered, eyes sliding down the expanse of her right arm, which no longer wore human flesh but rather, the same metallic coverings of a cyborg. Sterling silver and solid as the material of a pistol, it still bent and twisted the same as a humans. Dark bolts ran up her forearm, and continuing on until it met her shoulder, ending in the place where skin met titanium. In the space where her hand attached to her wrist was a shiny, black sphere acting as the bone allowing her the same capabilities as that of a human one. Screws the size of pin pricks ran along the sides of her fingers, as well. The workmanship was detailed, exquisite, precise. It wasn't until Sebastian's voice cut through the air, interrupting his admiration, did he tear his gaze away. Emerson glowered at this and resumed his previous position. 

"Forgive me if this inquiry seems unwarranted, but I can't help but wonder if this new alliance stems from a genuine desire to end this criminal warfare or if this is merely the first act in a much grander plan Her Majesty has in store for the poor Lester boy."

There a soft, yet notable inhale from her as she seemed to study his words. Though her silence was usually indicative that she wished for Emerson to answer instead, this time around, even he wasn't sure as the answer eluded him just as much as it did his brother. He listed his head down at The Queen, curiosity sinking into him as well. Soon, The Queen swung her feet off his lap and rose quite gracefully from the settee. Emerson was slightly disappointed at this as he watched her take another long, indulgent drag from the cigarette he'd given. Although he knew this only meant she did indeed have something else in store for their longtime enemies. Something that not even he, the man who knew her best it seemed, could predict. 

The Queen in all her resplendent glory, spun swiftly on her heels almost like that of a waltzing ballerina and set off on a path outside of her office, the doors swinging open all by themselves like they were sentient beings aware that they made way for such an imposing, royal martinet. 

Emerson stood as well, intending to follow her wherever she went, but restrained himself as she had not yet given him the order to do so. Sebastian stared past her, face mostly slack, but wore calculating eyes. 

"My Queen...?" Emerson called after her, for once, at a loss for what to do. 

The cogent tyrant paused for but a second, arms positioned cordially behind her back, one marble, one metal. Even from behind, they could tell her chin was held high as if she were addressing a squad of loyal soldiers, which, in a way, she was. Emerson and Sebastian held their breath as they awaited their next order. 

_"You, my dear boys, shall have to wait and see."_


End file.
